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Mr. Richardson at Forty. 



Memorial Letters 



MY GRANDCHILDREN 



MARY J. RICHARDSON 
II 



BOSTON 

Beacon Press: 7-A Beacon Street 

'893 



'i 






Should any stranger or friend be interested to 
read these pages of loving tribute to a sainted 
husband and grandfather, he will kindly pardon tiie 
simple and tender allusions and personal expressions, 
remembering that they were not written for the public 
eye but especially for those whom he loved and wlio 
loved him with the love of kinship. 
By his bereaved companion, 

The Fond Grandmother, 

Mary J. Richardson. 



To You, 

My Beloved Grandchildren, 

I dedicate this simple Memorial of your 
honored and lamented Grandpapa, hoping that you 
will see in his character, as it is developed here, a 
stimulus to a noble and Christian life. I trust that 
you will learn from it that first of all you should 
seek to know Christ and to serve him, and thus 
establish your hope, your faith, your all, for time and 
for eternity, upon this Everlasting Rock. If this 
shall be accomplished 1 shall be more than satisfied 
with my labor of love for you. 

Grandmamma. 











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The Gkanuchildren at the Age of about Three. 



CONTENTS 



I. The Old Homestead 

II. Infancy 

III. I'OYHOOD 

IV. High School Days 
V. Choice and Confessio 

VI. The Temptation . 

VII. Correspondence . 

VIII. A- Great Disappointment 

IX. Normal School . 

X. Varied Experiences . 

XI. Indictment, Trial, Releas 

XII. Happy Years in Dedham 

XIII. Separation . 

XIV. The Congkegationalist 
XV. As Reporter 

XVI. Anxiety and Sorrow . 

XVII. Trip Abroad 

XVIII. Darkness and Shadow 

XIX. Visiting Old Haunts 

XX. " In Journeyings Oft " 

XXI. Home in Chelsea 

XXII. Social Life . 

XXIII. Church Interest . 

XXIV. Summer in Franklin . 
XXV. The Going Home 

XXVI. Retrospect . 

XXVII. The Funeral Service 

XXVIII. Living Witnesses 

XXIX. Tributes from the Press 

XXX. Conclusion . 



PAGE 

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69 

75 
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95 
102 

no 
114 
123 
130 
135 
139 
157 
199 
219 



MEMORIAL LETTERS. 



LETTER No. 1. 

My Dear Grandchildren : 

I AM made very happy in the thought that you all were old 
enough to know and remember your grandpapa. It is a pleasure 
to think that he was near and with you during the last summer 
of his life ; that you saw him every day and that you learned, 
at least the older ones among you, to know his pleasant smile 
and to feel that he loved you. I think, too, that you will re- 
member the last time you looked upon his kindly face when he 
lay peacefully at rest, and you placed your hand upon his cold 
forehead, and he did not open his eyes to greet you or move 
his lips for the usual kiss. And perhaps you will never forget 
the sweet and tender services in my sick room, where you all 
came to comfort me before the dear form was carried from my 
sight to the church, where you listened to the solemn services, and 
where you saw the many friend's who had gathered to pay their 
last loving tribute of respect to him. I hope it will not prove to 
be so sad a lesson as it seemed at the time, but that its memory 
will be such a help and blessing to you in your future life that 
the sadness will no longer overshadow it. 

Though you may remember all these things about your grand- 
papa, you will still know but little about his life that I think you 
would like to know, unless some one, who was familiar with him, 
is able and willing to tell you ; so I have determined to write you 
a series of letters, beginning with his infancy, which shall give 
you a brief sketch of his early home, his life, and his character ; 
and this shall be my labor of love for him and for you. 

You have all been to the pleasant old homestead where his 
baby eyes first opened to the light of this beautiful world ; you 
know the charming views from every point of the hill on which 
the house stands, just in the edge of Franklin, Massachusetts, 
and very near the Charles River, which runs at the foot of the 
hill and divides Franklin from Medway. 



8 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. 

Your great-grandfather's farm extended through the broad 
pasture and down the hill to the river, along whose bank and far 
up the hillside were clusters of oaks and evergreens and various 
other kinds of trees which ornamented the tiny capes or points 
of land jutting out into the stream. Along at the foot of this hill 
the river was quite deep, because of a dam just below that had 
been built for the use of a mill a little farther on. The beautiful 
trees that fringed the bank, with the old mill and the picturesque 
bridge below, made as pretty a scene in the landscape as one 
will often find. 

The house stood in a sightly place, " beautiful for situation," 
on the summit of the hill ; your grandpapa has told me that not 
less than twenty spires could be seen from different parts of the 
farm. I do not remember in what towns the churches all be- 
longed, but I do remember how pleased he was the first time he 
took me over the farm to point them out to me with the many 
other views and places which interested him so much, and which 
he held so dear until the very close of his life. 

One lovely ramble was down through the lane where he used 
to drive the cattle to pasture, and which led to the river. 

After I went there we used sometimes to take this walk down 
to the river, where we could find pleasant seats and stay for a 
quiet hour talking over the happy experiences of your grandpapa's 
boyhood. Another interesting spot was the " Boiling Spring " 
down in the meadow, whose water was always pure and cool and 
so clear that the constant bubbling at the bottom could be plainly 
seen, and for which reason it got its name from the boys ; it was 
of this spring that your Uncle Albert wrote during one of his early 
separations from home, when some of the pains of homesickness 
got hold upon him, " and how dear the memory of ' the old, time- 
haunted spring, up-bubbling midst a world of greenery.' " How 
pleased your grandpapa used to be to dip the little tin cup into 
its clear waters and hand to me the refreshing drink, saying, " Isn't 
that fine water?" A young orchard had just been planted near 
the house, in which he felt great pride because the trees were all 
so shapely and regular ; then there was an ancient oak, nearly 
one hundred and fifty years old, of fine proportions, a short dis- 
tance off in the pasture, for which he had great admiration and 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. g 

under whose shade he spent many hours in play and study. How 
much tliis dear old tree could tell you of his life if it could talk ! 
I would like to write you of the charming grove just below the 
house, over the other side of the hill toward the south, which was 
a halfway rendezvous for the young people of the neighborhood : 
of the delightful woods but a few rods away on the farm, as a 
resort for picking young wintergreens and for decoying rabbits 
and partridges into warily set snares. In these woods, too, were 
found a greater variety of orchids and wild flowers than anywhere 
else around, and they brought many a merry company from the 
Medway High School in after years to search among the tangled 
underbrush for the varied specimens to pick to pieces and study 
in the botany classes. The farm also included fine whortleberry 
pastures and vines laden with delicious blackberries. Do you 
not see that there was very much on the dear old homestead to 
make a boy contented and happy? 

But the treasures were not all outside. The rainy days had 
their charms in no less a storehouse than the big garret, where 
the children held grand "receptions" and played games and 
" kept school " with amazingly ill-behaved children. If you could 
have found your way into that great-grandmother's garret you 
would have seen some things that would have made you laugh. 
Let me tell you a bit about it, because I am sure you will 
never see another like it and you cannot fail to be interested. 
The garret extended the width of the house from end to end, 
and had steep, narrow stairs leading to it which opened into 
the center of the room like a big hole, for the door of entrance 
was at the foot of the stairs. Half the length of the garret, 
from the stairs to the window, a line was suspended, which 
in summer held the heavy bed clothing of winter and in winter 
accommodated the summer clothing. Among the winter things 
were elaborately quilted covers ; white and blue checked woolen 
covers, also, with blue striped borders ; these last had been 
woven in the house years before. There was also great-grand- 
father's big overcoat and great-grandmother's fine Camlet cloak 
of red and white plaid, which was a grand affair when she was 
married. Near the head of the stairs stood great-grandmother's 
wedding trunk — a small box about twenty-seven inches long and 
from twelve to fourteen inches wide and deep. This was covered 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. 




with the skin of some animal, the brown and white hair remaining 
on it as in life, and was studded thickly around the edges with 
brass-headed nails. Then there was a famous old sea chest which 
had belonged to a captain uncle. This contained curiosities of 
numerous kinds, be- 
side ancient books 
having odd stories in 
them which the chil- 
dren used in their 
school keeping, with a score or more of 
ancient almanacs. The herb chest, loo, 
which all good housewives kept freshly 
replenished every year, stood just under 
the eaves, filled with sage, summer 
savory, thyme, camomile, balm, saffron, 
sweet marjoram, peppers, pennyroyal, 
sunflower seed, etc., giving out their pun- 
gent odors whenever the lid was raised. 

Two spinning 

wheels, now set 

aside, had a digni- 
fied place among 

the honored 

things, and stood 

as sure witnesses 

of the labors 

of past years. 

Towering above 

all other o c c u - 

pants of the garret 
was the stately old clock, still pointing with the finger of time not 
to life, but to age and decay. Its wooden wheels were motionless, 
for its life had run out in daily efforts to keep the family on time 
at the rising hour, at their meals, and to bed. Its machinery 
was worn out, and the heavy weights, pulled up by the cord 
opposite, would no more keep the pendulum swinging by their 
own weight slowly moving down. It was dismantled, useless. No, 
not useless, for years later it found a place in which it came to 
be of great service to the children of generations unborn when 





MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. 



its life began. Do you remember the pretty cupboard, with its 
glass door and tiny shelves, in which the dollies' china was kept 
that used to be your mamma's when a child, and which afterward 
gave you so much pleasure when you came to visit grandma.-' 
That was the top of this same old clock, trimmed and garnished. 
It is now in use for a company of children in a Children's Home. 
But I must hasten or I shall make my letter too long. There 
were odd-shaped old bonnets, some older and some more modern. 







0J% 





All these your great-grandmother or her mother had worn. And 
there were queer-looking garments which helped greatly in the* 
sport of their grand "reception" days; and many a time the old 
spectacles added dignity to the pef//e figure of the adopted little 
girl of the family. To be sure one eye- 
glass was gone, but what of that when she 
could see far better without it ! These 
were made in 1749, and had been in pos- 
session of your 
great-grand- 
mother's grandmother ; that is, they 
had been worn by your great-great- 
great-grandmotiier, and were kept in 
a neat, wooden box made for them 
with a jackknife by her uncle, a sea 
captain. These were some of the 
stately chairs stored away in the attic, used by the "grandees" 





MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. 



at the receptions, and also on school days to seat unruly pupils 
with their roguish faces turned toward the beam under the 
eaves, on which side by side were ranged several wooden shoe 
lasts, for use when a new pair of shoes was wanted, 

for in those days each ^^ /f^' person nuist have his own 

last to take to the shoe- "- " — --^ maker. On tiie great 

beam beside the lasts was placed the tiny Japan tin 

"petticoat lamp," which had served for many years in the hon- 
ored position of sewing lamp for the women folks on the little 
pine stand in the sitting room. It was 
only about four and a half inches high, 
had but a single wick, and gave but little 
more light than a candle, being filled 
with whale oil ; this was superseded at 
length by lard oil and finally by burning 
fluid, which could not be used in it, and so the petticoat lamp was 
forever relegated to its place in the attic. 

The parlor lamps were of glass and about as high as a goblet ; 
these were used only on state occasions, as the whale oil was 
quite expensive and could not be afforded. When your great- 
grandmother was a young lady she wore a high-backed shell comb 
which stood four or five inches above her head, and which she 







could easily cover 
with her heavy, curly 
hair so as to be en- 
tirely out of sight. This, too, was among the 
curiosities to help on the fun. I think it was 
the same comb that you see in the silhouette 
taken when she was eighteen years old, and 
which adds something to her height. There 
was yet one thing more of which I must 
speak, because it was your grandpapa's comfort when a babe ; that 
was the old wooden cradle in wiiich he was rocked, and in which 
he spent many hours with his playthings before he could walk. 
My next letter will introduce the baby to you. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2. I^ 



LETTER No. 2. 



I KNOW you are all eagerly waiting to learn of the dear little 
babe that came into the homestead described to you in my last 
letter. The children, of whom there were five, all loved the new- 
stepmother, and were pleased that this wee babe was hers and 
had come to stay; especially so was the twelve-year-old sister. 
She imagined all sorts of nice times in store for her when he 
should be old enough to be her special charge. Already she 
began to feel the care of a little mother. And this bit of humanity 
with a red face and blue eyes and tiny clenched fists was to be 
your grandpapa. Can you imagine that he whom you remember 
with silver locks and smooth head and pale cheeks could e\er 
have been so small ? He was, however, and he was just as sweet 
and lovely to his mamma as you were when you were a babe, and 
was just as helpless, too. I cannot tell you much of his tiny infancy, 
but I remember one incident that occurred when he was but a 
few weeks old which gave his mother great solicitude. She has 
told me of it with many a laugh. 

During the winter season when farmers visited a great deal, 
thus taking their needed vacations in social improvement, they 
often drove long distances to see a friend or relative and so 
exchange hospitalities. It occurred that your great-grandfather 
and great-grandmother went on one of these annual visits one 
beautiful day, taking the new baby with them. They congrat- 
ulated themselves on the mildness of the weather, and had 
a fine, comfortable drive in going. But about three o'clock in 
the afternoon a change came and the weather grew intensely 
cold. They decided that it would not answer for them to stay 
as late in the evening as they had anticipated, so prepared to 
return immediately after supper. When the little one went to 
sleep, about four o'clock, his mother wrapped his blankets care- 
fully about him and laid him upon the bed all ready for a 
start. When the time came he was tenderly taken up and other 
wraps were brought into use, for that precious babe must not be 
allowed to take cold. The mother then took him snugly under 
iier own warm Camlet cloak, and got into the comfortable, high- 



14 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2. 

backed sleigh and was tucked in with blanket and robe so that 
no air could find its way to the child. After being some time on 
the road your great-grandmother remembered that she had read, 
only a few days before, of a dear little babe being smothered and 
taken dead from its mother's arms 

afier just such a ^^ ride as this. She 

wondered that she "QA /mil '^^*^ "°^ thought 

of this sooner, ^"^^^^^^^^^J^z^ ^''"^ became very 

anxious. The " "^"^ -— — - "^^ child was so still 

that she feared the worst. She 

tried to loosen the wraps, to move him about, to arouse him 
to life if possible. Nothing availed, there was neither sound 
nor motion ; he lay like a dead weight in her lap. She was 
afraid to remove the coverings lest he take cold if he were still 
alive, so in terror and with great mental suffering she made the 
remainder of her journey. The sleigh had scarcely stopped at 
the home door ere the wrappings were torn away, and she bounded 
into the house trembling with fear and scarcely daring to look at 
the baby. She quickly uncovered the little face, however, to see 
the blue eyes open and look at her very peacefully, then close 
again with undisturbed serenity. 

I suppose, like all babies, he had many tumbles and mishaps, 
with bruises to be kissed well and a soiled face to be made clean. 
Like all little ones, too, he did not keep his babyhood a great 
while. It seemed but a few months before he was carrying a long 
stick in his childish fist and pointing to a large card of letters 
which hung on the wall in the sitting room, asking of every one 
who passed what each letter was, and not being satisfied until he 
was told. 

When he was two years old he had learned all his letters — 
a great feat in those days, as that was the first thing to be learned 
on beginning to go to school. I remember well when the change 
was introduced into the schools of teaching to read by sounds 
what anxious fears were expressed by many mothers lest their 
children would never learn to read properly, because they did not 
learn their letters first. 

When two and a half years old his sister took him to school 
one day. He was so quiet and well behaved that at the close of 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2. 1 5 

the session the teacher asked him if he would not like to come 
to school all the time. Turning to his sister she said, " I wish you 
would bring him every day, he is such a good boy." Just here 
I am reminded of a question which one of you asked me when you 
were about four years old. I was telling you about your grand- 
papa's going to school when so small, and you quickly asked, 
"Did he keep it up, grandma?" Yes, he kept it up, and went 
to school regularly ever after. I presume that your grandpapa 
was the originator of many amusing and funny speeches in his 
childhood, which would be very pleasant for us to read today if 
they had been preserved. But in those days children were not 
allowed to appear forward, nor were their bright sayings registered 
for the public. We know, however, that he was quite observing 
from an incident which happened when he was between three and 
four years old. 

One day he sat listening to his father's conversation with a 
neighbor about some person in whom they were both interested, 
when he heard his father say, " I fear he is not a man of much 
principle." Your grandpapa caught the word, and immediately 
called out, " Father, father, what is principle ? " He persisted in 
his inquiry until a satisfactory answer was given him. Whether 
principle began to develop in him at so early an age I cannot say. 
A little later on, when his father rebuked him for talking too much, 
he replied, with some degree of satisfaction in his tone, "Well, 
if I can't talk I can think, can't I .-" " This rebuke was probably 
given at a time when company was present or the family was 
gathered and the younger ones were made to understand that 
"children should be seen and not heard." What a silence there 
would be in your family if the children were held to so strict a 
reverence for older people as that ! What a rule for such wide- 
awake boys and girls as my grandchildren are ! Where would be 
the laughter and the merriment around your family table ? In 
my next letter I shall recount a few things relating to your grand- 
papa's character as a boy in school and out. 



l6 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3. 



LETTER No. 3. 



Doubtless you are anticipating a very entertaining letter 
this time — something that will amuse you greatly about a boy full 
of pranks and misdemeanors, a boy who made no end of trouble, 
who was wild and careless, or bubbling over with fun and laughter, 
perhaps unmindful, even, of the pain he caused other people to 
suffer. If such is the kind of boy you are looking for you will 
l)e greatly disappointed, though I hope not uninterested. 

No, your grandpapa was not that kind of boy at all. One of 
his schoohnates said of him, " He was too grave and correct in his 
behavior to make an entertaining subject for a story," None of 
those naughty mischiefs that read so marvelously afterward, when 
one does not tell of the pain they brought to others, were ever 
woven into his boyhood life. He handled no sharp-edged tools 
that cut and tear and wound, leaving their ugly scars all through 
after life. From very early years he showed that the principle 
which had been explained to him by his father on that memorable 
night had been implanted in his own soul, for nothing could tempt 
him to deceive, or play dishonest tricks, or do mean things for the 
sake of fun or to annoy another if it were possible to avoid it. 
Life took on a sober coloring to him when his boyhood had only 
just begun. By this I do not mean that he had no enjoyment 
for real wholesome sport, for indeed he had. His pleasure was 
as earnest as his more serious pursuits, but nothing that was 
accompanied with wrong, however slight its appearance, e\er 
entered into his pastimes. 

When he was about five years old he went with his half- 
brother to visit the city of Boston for the first time and to make 
some purchases for use on the farm. It was a long ride for a 
little boy. He was obliged to start at four o'clock in the morning 
in order ta get back the same day and see many sights while 
there. That was a great day, you may be sure, and any boy who 
is well and strong is ready for such a journey. He visited the 
State House, Quincy Market, the Common, and several other inter- 
esting places, which he never forgot. 

In his b^oyhood days working upon straw in some form was 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3. 1 7 

the chief industry by which the farmers' wives and children could 
earn money, not only in Franklin, but in all the region for miles 
around. The straw was usually raised on the place, and after 
being cut was split and trimmed carefully by the women, while 
all the best pieces were culled out and prepared for the braiding. 
A small machine with a sharp iron point was used to run through 
the straw to open it. On the edge of the machine was a brass 
bar with fine or coarse teeth, as was required, which was drawn 
through the piece to split it into strands for braiding. Most of 
the boys and girls learned to braid 

straw of a partic- .,-^0 ular kind called 

"seven-braid." (^ CZLi-^^^R^'jk This was after- 

wards made into kl^^w^^g^ "^^^"'"^ -— — '-" bonnets or hats. 
They had their daily stints of 

one or more yards, as the age and ability might warrant. Often 
several of the neighboring children would meet for an afternoon 
at the home of one of their number, or in the grove, or under 
some tree, and have a jolly time chatting and laughing and having 
their trials of speed to see who could get a yard done first. Some- 
times there would be a little cheating by braiding loosely, or on 
the sly stretching the braid for the coveted measure that brought 
triumph to the nimblest fingers. Your grandpapa enjoyed these 
good times with all the rest, but on no condition could he be 
tempted to slight his work or tighten the measuring. Every straw 
was laid with exactness so that the work should be even and 
smooth. 

When he was ten years old his half-sister, who was his loving 
guardian, taught the school in the home district, where he was one 
of her pupils. Though they held such near relationship he never 
thought that he could take advantage of it in any way, or that he 
could be favored because of it. She says, " He was as decorous, 
studious, and faithful in all his studies as if I were a stranger," 

During all his schoolboy days he was as tried and trusted 
a friend as a man of mature years. A lady of the same age of 
your grandpapa, and who attended school with him, bears this testi- 
mony : "He was always so true and so in earnest that we were 
never afraid to trust him with any secret, however sacred ; in any 
differences which came up among us, whether in play or in study. 



l8 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3. 

he was our judge because he was so just. I remember, too, that 
if ever any advantage was to be gained wherein he himself was 
concerned he invariably yielded it to another, though the oppor- 
tunity was as much for him as for any one else. His love of 
order, too, was just as marked ; there was system and method 
in everything he did, and I believe he exhibited this character- 
istic from his earliest childhood." She adds, also : " We had a 
glorious place for coasting down the long hill on the Franklin side 
of Mr, Richardson's home. At every opportunity the scholars 
would gather at the hill for this most exhilarating sport, and I re- 
member well the rule that we must start for the schoolroom the 
instant the bell rang, that we might be in our seats at the ringing 
of the order bell for exercises. We girls had no sleds in those days, 
but depended upon the gallantry of the boys for our part of the 
fun. I was always glad when Charles Richardson asked me to ride 
on his sled, because he steered so true and straight ; then, too, 
I was sure to be on time in the schoolroom, for somehow he 
seemed to have the faculty of measuring the minutes. He would 
never go far up the hill at the near approach of the striking of the 
bell, was prompt to leave the playground just in season to hang 
his hat and coat upon their accustomed nail and enter the school 
on the first stroke of the order bell. He was a minute early 
rather than a minute late." 

I heard some one remark not long ago, "When 1 think of 
the boys of that age I feel a great pity for them, they had to be 
men so young." I trust my grandchildren will never waste any 
pity in that direction. I think if you should ask any one of the 
grandpapas now living if he had a sorry time in his boyhood he 
would be surprised at such a question, and immediately answer, 
" Why, no ! those were some of my best days. We boys had lots 
of fun." I believe that half the secret of the good times they 
had arose from the fact that they learned to depend upon them- 
selves for their entertainment. They also had regular habits of 
industry, and when their playtime came there was a relish for it 
and a freshness about it which no boy or girl can feel who does 
nothing but play. More than that there was a consciousness 
of having earned in a noble way time that they felt was theirs. 
What a gladness such a feeling brings ! 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3, 



19 




What did they have for sport ? Why just what you have, 
and more than boys who live in cities. They played ball; they 
went tishing, rowing, skating, coasting, berrying; they had candy 
pulls in the evening, or cracked nuts and popped corn. Sometimes 
their work was as good as play, especially when there came a husk- 
ing bee and the neighbors were invited in and the piles of corn 
were portioned off to the different parties, for in these good times 
you may be sure that the children had their share. How merry the 

scene was, all lighted up with 
lanterns hanging about in the 
barn ! Then came the after 
part, with refreshments of pie, 
cake, apples, etc. Beside this, 
were evenings for shelling the 
corn, and it was pleasant to see 
the children each with a portion to shell, and the father sitting 
astride a low chair beside his tub, on which rested a broad shovel 
on the sharp edge of which he shelled his corn into the tub. 
You see that work was so woven into the life as to be really a 
part of its mirth and happiness. To be sure they had neither 
tennis nor croquet, and perhaps their ball games were not quite 
as scientific as they are now ; but they were fine games neverthe- 
less, and your grandpapa was quick and ready at them. I don't 
believe either of you boys can skate as well, at least no better than 
he could, marking all sorts of figures on the ice, sweeping graceful 
curves, cutting acute angles, and lining off parallelograms with a 
beauty and ease that might astonish you should you see the 
clumsy skates of that time. His first skates, and the ones on 
which he learned, were called Club skates, 
and were rightly named. They were a long 
block of wood attached to a deep steel or iron 
bottom. A few years later 

^~\ an improvement came in the 

^ ■' =£^^^ Acorn skate, and though it was nothing to 
be compared with the fine steel-finished skates 
of today, its iron runner, broad as it was, was a great improve- 
ment. He was also a good swimmer, and had many a fine 
swim in the Charles River running below the farm. Beside all 




20 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3. 

these delights much enjoyment was found in setting snares for 
game in the woods. O, life was full of gladness even in your 
grandpapa's day, when tasks began as a general thing at the 
mature age of eight years, and sometimes at six. But you will for- 
give my writing so long a letter this time, for I wanted to tell you 
enough to insure your belief that your grandpapa had a happy 
childhood ; though he had a sensitive nature and a tender con- 
science, I expect that he also had a pretty strong will, and that 
sometimes, perhaps, he lost his patience if things didn't go to suit 
him. In fact, I believe he was like other boys in most respects. 
Once when he went to sleep in church a most amusing in- 
cident occurred, of which I must tell you, for it proved to be a 
profitable lesson to him through the rest of his life. One rather 
warm, oppressive Sunday, when he was feeling unusually tired, he 
fell asleep during sermon time. Dreaming, he suddenly shouted in 
his sleep, and with a quick start struck his heavy shoes hard against 
the pew, making a loud, resounding noise through the church. 
Opening his eyes quickly he saw the attention of many of the 
congregation fastened upon him with smiles of considerable mean- 
ing upon their faces, which revealed to him the situation of 
things. He has often told me, laughing, that he had never for an 
instant since that experience felt any inclination to go to sleep in 
church. The mortification of it sunk too deeply. In my next 
letter I shall tell you a bit of his life as a pupil. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 4. 



LETTER No. 4. 



In my last letter I told you something of your grandpapa's 
boyhood, though not much of his school life and work. I wish I 
knew more about them, but my personal knowledge of his habits 
did not come until later ; however, I can tell you briefly of some 
of the influences he had about him, and your bright minds will 
quickly see that if boys and girls are brought up to industrious 
habits, trained to be thoughtful and to believe that life means some- 
thing more than play and pleasure, they will be manly boys and 
womanly girls. They will be children of right impulses, and will 
make men and women of the finest stamp. 

In the neighborhood where your grandpapa lived and went 
to school most of his mates were the sons of farmers, who were 
well read, thoughtful men and ambitious for their children to be- 
come good and honored citizens, so they looked after their train- 
ing in what you might call a rather rigid manner. Your great- 
grandfather was one of those sterling men who were the bone and 
sinew of our country, ready to go to the stake, if need be, for prin- 
ciple. At that time it was a custom, brought over by the early 
settlers of the country, to use alcoholic drinks with freedom ; but 
he became strictly temperate in 1830, the date of his becoming a 
Christian. He realized that the two things were not consistent, 
and said, " I stopped supplying liquor to my help. Men didn't 
want to work for me, but I said I would let my hay stand if 
I couldn't cut it without rum." He was just as firm in discontin- 
uing the use of tobacco. When a young man he had learned to 
chew the weed, but when Christ came into his heart and awakened 
the desire for perfect purity of life this led him to abhor tobacco 
and never another bite did he take, though the abstinence cost him 
much suffering at first. He also thought that as a child of God he 
ought to let his choice to serve him be known and felt in his own 
family ; and though he was a diffident man and knew what a cross 
it would be he determined to have family prayers at his own fire- 
bide. I am sorry that I have not the full and comprehensive prayer 
which he committed to memory, and used as long as he lived every 
morning of his life with the same solemn reverence, standing back 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 4. 





of his chair, his arms resting across the top. Here is a picture 
of the chair which your great-grandfather always used after I 
knew him. He sat in it at table and stood behind it to pray, 
and as soon as prayers were over he would lay the large Bible 
on the corner of the 
mantel, and place his 
spectacles on the top of 
it, always in the same 
spot. Perhaps on ac- 
count of this home train- 
ing your grandpapa had 
less temptations to go 
astray than do many 
boys in these days. 
As he grew older he became still more persistent and deter- 
mined in his studies, and though never a brilliant scholar he was 
a real worker and bound to secure all he could by close applica- 
tion. There are some boys, you know, who think if they can only 
get through a recitation and not fail that is all that is neces- 
sary. It was not so with your grandpapa; he coveted all that 
he could learn for his own real benefit through life. It was 
knowledge that he was seeking, and to gain this he was com- 
pelled to hard study; he understood that he could not have it 
without labor of his own. He entered with zest into all exhi- 
bitions and monthly lyceums, and was ready and eager to do 
his part in the best way. When he was fourteen he went to 
the high school in Franklin Center, a distance of four miles. 
Quite a number of the Latic boys went with him the same 
year. " Latic " was the name given to the district where your 
grandpapa lived, because of a fine pond in that vicinity called 
Popolatic. 

The boys and girls usually walked to and from the school, and 
there were good walkers in those times, though they did not walk 
for prizes. They often tried to outstrip each other in speed, and 
reasonably prided themselves upon their success. So when Dr. 
Williams, a rather eccentric divine living in a town not far distant, 
declared tiiat he could walk four miles in half an hour, the boys 
could hardly reconcile the statement with the possibilities, and 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 4. 23 

decided among themselves that, minister though he was, it could 
not be true. 

Among the pupils was one Whitaker, a trifle younger than the 
others, who sometimes complained of the hardship of the long 
pulls up the hills and seemed to dread them considerably. They 
had just formed a class in physics in the high school, and your 
grandpapa suggested that now was the time to make a test of the 
principle of obtaining the greatest momentum possible by going 
down one hill so fast that the force should carry him up the other, 
thus making his walk easy and at the same time putting study into 
practice. As was often customary in schools of that kind there 
were weekly declamations and writing of compositions, and the 
scholars were allowed to take their choice of these exercises. Why 
your grandpapa usually chose writing I do not know ; I am in- 
clined to think, however, that it was because of a natural diffidence 
to appear before others, a feeling which followed him all his life. 
Still he might have considered it would be of greater advantage to 
him in the future. That he had some good and carefully studied 
reason you may be certain, for even then he did not settle a 
question without giving it a thorough examination. 

I have a letter lying before me which came from one of the 
members of that same class, and she writes: "There is no one of 
the old schoolmates of whom I have a more distinct recollection 
than of Charles A. Richardson. There was an uncommon amount 
of rivalry between the members of our class — a large one — and 
C. A. R. was a conspicuous figure among us. There was never 
anything proposed for the intellectual improvement that he was 
not heart and soul in. He was noted for his strict integrity and de- 
votion to principle, and ever acted on the motto, ' Be sure you are 
right, then push ahead.' Were there debating clubs, he took a part. 
Were there exhibitions to be held, he gave his attention in earnest 
and helped to make them a success. Our spelling classes, in which 
he became proficient and was most frequently the winner, were full 
of interest. And never was he found to take part in any of the 
petty quarrels that often occurred among the scholars ; indeed, 
I am sure it would be more truthfully said of him that he was a 
peacemaker among them. I never shall forget the page after page 
of history which he committed to memory in the Franklin High 



24 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 4. 

School, and would repeat without one mistake. I think he was 
one of the most conscientious boys I ever knew." 

And this is the testimony of all those who knew him in his 
early years : that he was hopeful, helpful, trustful, faithful ; that he 
was earnest, thoughtful, true ; that he was generous, high-minded, 
pure. Is not such a record the standard for a good man ? Yet 
something else was needed to perfect his character, and that some- 
thing your grandpapa secured. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 25 



LETTER No. 5. 

I HAVE now come to a time when, by his own free and thought- 
ful choice, your grandpapa laid the foundations for a noble and 
useful life, one that should honor God and which is now an honor 
to you — a life that was full of all the qualities of heart and mind 
which enriched himself and helped to lead those with whom he 
associated to a better life. As you grow older you will understand 
the force and beauty of this choice on which all true character is 
built. 

There were two great advantages which he had in aiding him 
to become what he was. First, he was a farmer's boy; and 
secondly, he was a poor boy. These two things have oftener proved 
to be more of a help than a hindrance to a boy. As a farmer's 
son, he had many hours in which to be^alone with his own undis- 
turbed thought, and the great questions of life, which every one of 
us sooner or later must settle for ourselves, came to him during 
these solitary hours in the fields with only God and nature around 
him. He often wondered what he should do or be when he be- 
came a man. He tried to answer to himself what he desired most 
to be like, and then, when he reached his conclusion, he asked how 
he could best gain that end. 

As a poor boy, he found one fact established. He must work 
for whatever he wished to attain. In work he was saved from 
thousands of temptations that surround the boy of wealth and 
luxury. There was certainly one special aim before him — work! 
He learned to honor work for work's sake and for the good it 
brought him in every condition of life. 

With these two advantages your grandpapa was taught to 
reverence the Sabbath and his Creator. Up earlier on Sunday 
morning than on other days, he hastened to be ready in good sea- 
son for his walk of four miles to church. He was a constant 
attendant and an earnest listener. His habit of thinking while at 
his daily toil was of great service to him during the week, in 
recalling the various heads of the sermons and applying the texts 
with their solutions to his own improvement. 

When he was between fourteen and fifteen years old he 



26 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 

seriously asked himself what bearing religion would have upon his 
future course as a man. Would life be more to him and to others 
through him should he avow himself as one among the followers 
of Christ ? The more he thought on the subject the more he felt 
convinced of his need of just the help the gospel brings in order 
to overcome an evil nature, to stimulate to the highest possible 
standard of living, and enable him ever to strive for the best in 
character and influence. How keenly he realized that he had 
faults to overcome and an ambition to gratify that should be made 
holy instead of selfish ! And how much there was for him to learn 
before manhood would be reached ! He resolved then that he 
would cast in his lot with those who loved God. He now turned 
all his thought and energies to that purpose, and determined to be 
a Christian. After a few months of this state of mind he sadly 
recognized a growing faintness in the resolutions he had so recently 
made. His zeal appeared to be waning, and he was quite con- 
vinced that he was not all right in his understanding of what a 
Christian should be. He thought he had done all on his part to 
meet God's requirements, and if he was not a Christian it must 
be because of God's unwillingness to accept him. He was sore 
distressed over his condition. He was fully aware that he had not 
the real essence of the spirit of Christ in his soul. This mental 
suffering increased to a great degree, and he feared that God was 
so angry with him for his long neglect of him that he would cast 
him off forever. During this period of his soul's agitation quite 
a number of deaths occurred in the neighborhood, and the pastor 
was led to preach upon the seriousness of life, its uncertainty and 
failure to satisfy the soul. He dwelt upon the importance of com- 
mitting our way unto the Lord while young, and of rejoicing in 
early years in that wisdom which leads to everlasting life. 

This sermon deeply interested your grandpapa, and made 
a strong impression on his mind. He saw and felt how hard it 
was for any one to do right without the help of God. Though he 
had no glaring faults he knew that he was a sinner and that there 
was no salvation for him save through the merits of a crucified 
Redeemer. His guilt in refusing to accept him for so long a time 
increased to a painful degree ; his sense of sinfulness daily grew 
in magnitude until he almost felt that for him there was no ray of 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 27 

hope. For several days this horror of great darkness brooded 
over him until at last, after strong crying and appeals for mercy, he 
cast himself helpless upon Almighty grace. It was near the close 
of day and he was alone in the field, when a new and amazing 
light dawned in his soul. Christ appeared with tender and for- 
giving love. All the gentleness of his being, his readiness to 
forgive and receive him just as he wns, flooded his soul with an 
unspeakable peace. God the Father seemed so great and so holy ; 
Christ was so near and so precious. He could not understand the 
strange peace within him. He says : " It seemed as if a great light 
shone round about me, on the fields, the woods, the sky, every- 
thing, and I was so full of praise that I could not speak. Every- 
thing had a brightness such as I had never seen before. The 
place was filled with God's presence, and all things looked as if 
they had felt his touch anew. I did not understand the meaning 
of this sensation that had taken possession of me. An indescrib- 
able something that I could not explain filled my soul ; Christ 
seemed strangely near and precious ; nothing was now too great 
for me to undertake in his behalf. This state of ecstasy remained 
with me for several days, until I felt sure that I had been accepted 
of God, my sins had been forgiven, and he had vouchsafed to me 
the Holy Spirit. Henceforth I was ready to live or die even as 
he should will." 

My dear grandchildren, was not this a glorious experience 
such as would be likely to influence one's whole life ? He was 
fifteen years old at this time, and life thereafter wore a grander 
and nobler aspect because Christ was in it all. Now his purpose 
was to glorify God, his aim to do the most he could for himself, 
for the world, and for Christ's kingdom. He would never be an 
eyeservant for his Master. God should have his faithful service 
and his best alway. 

The next spring, while he was at work for his half-brother in 
his nursery near by, a stranger came to buy trees. He was so 
interested in your grandpapa that he watched him narrowly while 
engaged in his labors. The man liked his way of doing things, 
and when leaving he asked the brother if he couldn't get that boy 
to work for him. " I will pay him fifteen dollars a month," said 
he. This was a great compliment at the time, that being the 
highest wages paid to a man for such work. The stranger urged 



28 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 

his case, and asked the brother to lay the matter before his father 
and let him know very soon. The suggestion was not received 
very favorably, however, by his father, and the subject was 
dropped. A short time after, his brother was at the nursery of 
Hon. Marshall P. Wilder in Dorchester, where he was engaged 
for a time, when he met the stranger again. He immediately in- 
quired about "that boy" and the prospect there might be of 
securing his services. When he found that his case had not been 
urged very much he pressed it with new vigor. The result was 
more favorable the second time, and some pains were taken to 
inquire about the man, whose home was in Worcester. Your 
grandpapa's brother was sent to see him in his home, to ask 
about the work, and learn what the surroundings were. When it 
was found that Mr. Hartwell was a Christian man, disposed to make 
fair and honorable dealings, a written agreement was drawn up and 
proper negotiations were made between his father and the man in 
Worcester for the summer months. This was your grandpapa's 
first experience in going away from home to live among strangers. 
While he was absent at this time the subject of his uniting 
with the church came before the officers, and the pastor being 
desirous that he should join at the next communion, his mother 
wrote him the following impressive letter : 

Mv Dear Son: 

. . . We called upon the pastor yesterday and conversed with him 
about your making a profession of religion at the next communion, four 
weeks from next Sunday. Your sister will unite then, and it seems 
desirable that you should botli join at the same time. The pastor thinks 
it is a bad thing to put off such a duty when one feels ready for it. But, 
my son, it is a most solemn transaction, while it is also an important 
duty, if a person has evidence to believe that the heart' has been renewed 
by the Holy Spirit. My dear son, remember that you cannot perform 
this duty in an acceptable manner without divine aid. Cease not, there- 
fore, to look to God in constant, humble, and sincere prayer, for his 
assistance in the examination of your heart to ascertain the motives 
which influence you to profess Christ before the world. Let it not be 
the applause of men, not even of Christians, that influences you ; but the 
glory of your God and Saviour, whose you are and to whom you owe 
your supreme love and affection. It will be necessary for you to come 
home on Friday, the fifteenth, to prepare your " Relation " and to see 
the pastor. . . . Your affectionate mother. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 29 

It was the custom in those days for each person who wished 
to unite with the church to write out his exiDcrience and show why 
he wished to take this step, and also express in this way the evi- 
dence he had of being a Christian, in order that others might 
judge if he was a proper candidate. I will inclose the "Rela- 
tion" written by your grandpapa, then fifteen years old, in this 
same letter : 

CHARLES A. RICHARDSON's EXPERIENCE. 

I iiave at times from my earliest recollection been the subject of 
serious impression, but was particularly so in the summer of 1843. My 
attention was then called up by no particular event, but it seemed to me 
as though the Spirit of God was striving in my heart, though at first 
unknown to myself. I was deeply impressed with a sense of my guilt 
before God, and felt that then was the time to make my peace with him. 
I felt so for several days, and then for a time hoped I had given my 
heart to God, but it proved like the morning and early dew, which soon 
passeth away. I then thought I had done all in my power to secure an 
interest in Christ, and if I should be forever cast from his presence it 
would not be my fault. 

But in the month of December last God was pleased again to 
arouse me from my sinful slumber to attend to the great and important 
concerns of my soul. My attention was particularly arrested then by 
hearing a very solemn discourse by our pastor, occasioned by the num- 
ber of deaths about that time, and by the conversation of my parents, 
calculated to impress the subject upon my mind. I at first thought 
I would put off repentance till a more convenient time should come, but 
upon reflection thought, should I neglect the present opportunity the 
day of grace might be passed with me forever, and finally resolved that 
I would improve the present opportunity, or perish in the attempt. 

I felt myself to be one of the greatest of sinners, and that if justice 
was done me I should be cast off forever. My greatest guilt appeared to 
be in rejecting the Saviour so long. I saw that I had lived in continual 
rebellion against God, and it seemed strange to me that he had not cut 
me off in my sins. I continued in this state of mind for awhile, when 
being alone, reflecting on my ruined condition, I thought I saw the will- 
ingness of God to save all who came to him through the merits of 
Christ. I thought I felt willing to be in his hand, and felt that he would 
do right with me. It seemed to me that nothing could be too much to 
suffer for him. The Bible appeared a different book to me from what 
it ever had before — a revelation from heaven, the precious word of life. 



30 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 5. 

The Saviour appeared precious to my soul, and I hope I was enaljled to 
put my trust in him alone for salvation. Prayer appears not only a duty 
but a privilege, the society of Christians desirable. Though I at times 
have many doubts and can see much that is sinful in my own heart, yet 
I feel it an important duty to profess Christ before the world and unite 
with his friends in celebrating his dying love. I now offer myself to 
this church, asking your acceptance of me, your prayers for me, and 
watchfulness over me, that I may live agreeable to the precepts and 
commands of Christ. 

C. A. Richardson. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 6. 3 1 



LETTER No. 6. 

The experience in Worcester won for your grandpapa the 

esteem of his employer and a desire for him to return ; and, as 

was frequently the custom, he wished to have the boy bound out 

to him for a series of years. He therefore wrote the accompanying 

letter to his father, proposing terms and showing his appreciation 

of him : 

September 2, 1845. 
Mr. Richardson, Sir: 

... In reference to Charles, I will give him seventy-five dollars 
the first year, and three months' time to attend school in ; one hundred 
dollars and three months the second year, and one hundred and seventy- 
five dollars for the nine months of the third year. I can find good boys 
of his age on better terms, but we are pleased with Charles; find he has 
a taste for the business, will be trusty, and make a good nurseryman. 
Should you think it best to have him come on these conditions I would 
like to have him return as early as convenient, and I will give him his 
board and furnish him with what books he may need this autumn for 
his services night and morning. The Worcester High School is a good 
one, and his advantages will be better than at Franklin. He can come 
at any time. Yours truly, 

C. W. Hart WELL. 

As a more favorable opportunity came to him to work with 
his brother at the nursery of Hon. Marshall P. Wilder in Dorches- 
ter, he accepted the latter position. Among the letters which he 
received from his mother while in Dorchester was the following : 

Sabbath Morning, July 26. 
My Dear Son : 

... I have nothing in particular to say except to remind you that 
altliough you are absent in person you are not absent from the mind; 
that there is a cord connecting you to the hearts of your parents, tender 
and strong, which will be durable as life itself. Very much of our com- 
fort and enjoyment must depend upon the character and virtuous con- 
duct of our children. Have you not then a double motive to influence 
you to pursue the path of virtue and wisdom ? You will do it I hope 
for the promotion of your own happiness and that of your nearest 
earthly friends. Our family has been the smallest for some weeks past 



32 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 6. 

that it has ever been; but if we should all live for some years to come 
we shall not probably all live together as in years past, but shall un- 
doubtedly be separated many miles apart. Yet there is a consolation 
in the idea that our Heavenly Father will guide and protect us when 
separated as well as when together. How grateful should we be that 
he is ever ready to hear and answer in his own best way all our reason- 
able, submissive petitions. O Charles, neglect not the tlirone of grace 
and your own heart! Ruin of soul and body often begin there. I would 
write more, but it is almost dark and you will see that my pen is too 
poor. 

From your affectionate mother, 

H. B. Richardson. 

The following autumn and winter he spent at home in study. 
A fine teacher had been secured for the Franklin School in 
Mr. William Peck, afterward a lawyer of some prominence and 
later an officer in the War of the Rebellion. Your grandpapa 
accomplished much during this season in his intellectual improve- 
ment, and I find stored away among his keepsakes a valedictory, 
which I have no doubt was written for the close of this term of 
school. It is written on a huge sheet of paper, measuring seven- 
teen and one half inches in length and fourteen inches in width, 
almost large enough to serve as a drop curtain with which to shield 
the modest reader. The subject, "Education," is abundant in solid 
thought, in wise and practical reflections, and in serious remarks 
to teachers and scholars. That it was a decidedly grave docu- 
ment for a youth of sixteen may be seen from this selection : 
" There are none so highly favored that the cause of Education is 
of no value to them, and there are none whose lot on earth has 
been cast so low as to place them beneath its influence. The 
mind of man when he first enters the world is like a rude block 
of shapeless marble which has never come in contact with the 
sculptor's chisel. But when some master hand has perseveringly 
labored on it, and exhausted all the effects of his talents and 
skill, it is reduced to a refined and beautiful statue, and remains 
a monument of the untiring application of the sculptor. Thus it 
is with the human mind. Every influence with which it comes in 
contact, every example which is set before it, and every mind with 
which it holds intercourse — each one of these is a blow which 
assists in maturing it either for good or evil." 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 6. 33 

Again the next year he went to assist his half-brother in Mr. 
Wilder's nursery. As the two wrought together they had many 
conversations concerning your grandpapa's future prospects. He 
had often expressed a desire for a college education, and his 
brother, anxious to learn his reasons, plied him with varied ques- 
tions on the matter. He wanted to study for a profession, but 
seemed to feel that it was out of the question entirely, and that he 
ought not to think of it. 

"Why is it out of the question?" asked his brother. 

" Because I have neither money nor a father to help me, nor 
friends to give me aid," he replied. 

" For what profession would you study, the ministry ? " 

" I don't know as I am fitted to be a minister; but is it neces- 
sary for every educated man to be a minister in order to do 
Christian work ? What do you want me to be } " 

" O, I should like to have you become a good nurseryman, but 
I think if you have a great desire to do something else you ought 
to make the effort for it," replied his brother ; " I've no doubt you 
would succeed. I will talk with father about it and see what he 
thinks, but I believe that if you are really in earnest you could 
work your way through college. Why, some of our most prominent 
men are those who have made their own way without any help ; 
but if you really needed it I think I could help you some." 

This conversation encouraged him so much that he began at 
once to plan his course for the future, and made up his mind that 
this was the thing he would do if it were possible. It was at the 
end of this season that the great temptation of his life came in 
his path. Mr. Wilder, for whom he worked, had great interest 
and confidence in him. Perhaps he was more particularly drawn 
to him because he was the son of a beloved uncle of his wife ; 
be that as it may he saw that he was a responsible young man, 
one whom he would like to train for his business, and he offered 
him great inducements. He assured him of a future partnership 
with himself, and laid before him the probable chances of soon 
accumulating a competence. The opportunity was a rare one, and 
for so young a person a very tempting one. Your grandpapa 
avoided any hasty decision. Though his heart was firmly set in 
another direction, yet he stopped to think over the matter, to com- 



34 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 6, 

pare the greatest advantages on both sides, and after deliberate 
and careful consideration he still remained in favor of his first 
decision. Mr. Wilder was disappointed, and urged more thought 
about it, disclosing to him the satisfaction of entering at once 
upon his life's work, setting before him the pleasure and comfort 
of being independent and his own master, and also showing him 
how great a strain he would constantly be subject to, for a series 
of years, as a poor student, if he still resolved to go through 
college. He begged him for his own best good not to make the 
decision final then, as he would like to keep the position open for 
him in case there was any prospect of changing his mind. But 
the spirit so determined to do God's work was unmoved, and in 
this calm retrospect he wrote to his mother, for whom he always 
had the profound respect and reverence of a dutiful son. My next 
to you will contain the correspondence with his parents upon this 
subject now under such anxious consideration. I know the letters 
will be of more interest to you than any that I could write. 







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MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 7. 35 



LETTER No. 7. 

In reading your grandpapa's letter I trust you will observe 
how cautiously he weighed the entire subject before him, and then 
sacredly and reverently remember that this was a trait in his 
character which helped him to stick to a decision once made. He 
took his position with a candid assurance of its merits. 

Dorchester, August 23, 1847. 
My Dear Mother: 

I have long been waiting for a good opportunity to write home, but 
my time has been so taken up evenings in accounting buds, answering 
orders for scions, and so forth, that I have perhaps neglected it longer 
than I ought. ... I turn now to a subject of much importance which 
is constantly upon my mind. It is my own prospects, my situation in 
life, should God be pleased to spare it. When I look to the future and 
consider my hopes and expectations I feel sometimes encouraged, some- 
times discouraged. I see before me on one hand long years of toiling 
study, of labor which cannot be compared to bodily toil. I see my 
health at stake, to be no doubt severely tried, perhaps severely injured 
or partially lost in the efiort. I also see my situation here with regard 
to a prospect of future success as to the accumulation of wealth should 
I continue with Mr. Wilder as he would like. It seems to me that 
I could wish for no better prospects of worldly success than are here 
presented and for which I am wholly indebted to my brother. But what 
of this? What though the wealth of India and the fame of Napoleon, 
what though supplied with every luxury which art and vegetation can 
afford, would that make me happy ? Would that secure life everlasting 
and the approbation of conscience and of God? No! but just the 
reverse. All might serve to make me live farther from God, to make 
me worldly minded, and to wrest from me the desire to live to the glory 
of God and the good of my fellow beings. True, it might not do all this, 
but what would be the consequence should I become deeply engaged 
in the worldly pursuits of life no one can tell. I hope that whatever 
might be my situation in life I should never forget its great end and my 
own duty to God. I think I now feel a desire to engage in such pur- 
suits in life as will afford the greatest opportunity for usefulness, and 
such as will be least likely to set my mind on things below rather than 
on life everlasting in the world which is to come. I am constantly 
reminded of the rapidity of time and the shortness of life. I am aston- 



36 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 7. 

ished when I think how swiftly this summer is passing. In a few days 
it will be fall, while it seems but a very short time since I first left home 
in the spring. Indeed, it sometimes seems that life at longest must be 
very short. It was not so when I was four or five years younger, but 
the longer I live the more clearly do I perceive the swiftness of time. 

With regard to the adaptedness of my constitution for study, I have 
some fear, but hope for the best. But much as I fear from that and 
other sources, tedious as the path of study looks, it is my greatest desire, 
and I believe duty, to commence the great work. With regard to the 
motives which actuate me I can sincerely say it is not any wish for fame 
or honor or a life of ease. O, no! how can one expect a life of ease 
with such a work staring him in the face? It is because it seems 
impressed upon my mind that I am to do it, that it is a duty and a 
privilege, and because in that way to all human appearance I may be 
the instrument of greater good. I feel almost discouraged at times 
when I think how prone my heart is even now to do evil and cling to 
this world's alluring charms. It is my great desire and constant prayer 
to God that my thoughts and affections may be set more exclusively on 
the things which concern my everlasting welfare, and that I may be 
fitted for the great work to which I am now looking forward with trem- 
bling yet strong hope. Should I succeed in acquiring an education 
perhaps it is unnecessary for me to say that I have not the least desire 
for any profession but the ministry, and I think were that a blank I 
would not stake my health and tax my energies (much as I love study) 
for the sake of acquiring any other. 

I heard an interesting sermon from the agent of the Education 
Society not long since. Should it be necessary and judged best, I see 
no reason why aid might not be expected from that, as the great object 
is to educate indigent young men for the ministry. With regard to 
that, however, you have spoken before. When you write again will you 
not say something with regard to father and your discernment upon 
this subject which I have good reason to believe occupies some small 
share of your thoughts.'' I have written much more than I meant to, 
and perhaps the postage is ten cents. I will be careful as to this 
another time. Please excuse all mistakes. I have been in a great 
hurry writing. 

From your dutiful son, 

C. A. Richardson. 

You will remember that I have told you in what a dignified 
manner the children were trained in the neighborhood where 
your grandfather lived, so you are not surprised at the staid 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 7. 37 

expressions of this letter. I will give you some extracts from 
the response which he received to this letter from his parents : 

Franklin, September 12, 1847. 
My Dear Son: 

. . . The subject of your letter is one of great importance, one 
which will most deeply affect your future life. I have ever felt that it 
would be a great blessing and privilege to have a son that was qualified 
and disposed to make the sacrifice of leaving friends and home, going 
to some destitute part of our own country to preach the gospel of Christ 
to our dying fellow men. When we had reason to hope that God in infi- 
nite mercy had renewed your heart I began to hope that he would one day 
prepare you for that important station, but thought it not best for me 
to suggest the idea, feeling that if God designed it he would impress 
it upon your mind. The cry of " come over and help us " is urgent. 
The call for preachers of the true gospel is very great, and no doubt 
will increase for many years to come, while very few at the present 
time are preparing for the ministry. If you have weighed this matter 
thoroughly and feel that you can make the necessary sacrifices, which 
must be great, and can be satisfied that your motives are right, it 
appears to me that you ought not to relinquish all your plans for an 
education. I can see the prospect of worldly prosperity and popularity 
which might be within your reach should you pursue them, but what 
are they ? Should I undertake to show you the danger of thus seeking 
and obtaining riches and popularity, I should quote from your own 
letter. You seem to realize the effect it might have ; give that its due 
weight. . . . 

From your affectionate mother, 

H. B. Richardson. 

His father's letter read as follows : 

My Dear C.: 

As you wish to hear something from your parents with regard to 
your future course in life, and as I never said but little on that subject, 
I will write a few thoughts. It is a subject which has caused me many 
anxious thoughts, which nothing but a parent's experience can truly 
describe. I see on the one hand all the allurements of wealth and 
honor and flattery held up to your view; on the other, the silent monitor 
within saying you ought to do what will be most for the glory of God 
and of your fellow men. When I think of the great responsibility of 
a minister of Christ, and how many seem to fall short of preaching the 



38 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 7. 

whole gospel, I cannot but look at it as a work of fearful magnitude. 
But when I think of the promotion of the glory of God and the ever- 
lasting salvation of the never-dying soul, it seems to be of infinite im- 
portance that young men should be raised up who will preach the whole 
gospel. I learn that it is a mournful fact that there is at the present 
time, in proportion to the population, the smallest number of young men 
almost ever known fitting for the ministry. 

I hope you will weigh well both sides of this subject as your future 
destiny seems to hang upon it. As you look forward you see on the 
one hand wearisome days and years of toil and study, of which you must 
meet a good portion of the expense, and on the other you might hope 
to get a celebrated name and lay up much goods for many years. 
I heard the remark sometime since that our best men in the ministry 
were men who in a measure had educated themselves. Are not such 
men laying up a treasure far more valuable than all earthly treasures ? 
In making up your mind may you be led to watch carefully the provi- 
dence of God and act from nothing but a sense of duty. This is the 
sincere desire and fervent prayer of your father. 

E. Richardson. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 8. 39 



LETTER No. 8. 

The letters that I sent you last showed you how thoroughly 
your grandpapa's mind was settled as to his future work. Now he 
immediately turned his attention to the means by which the end 
could be accomplished. Before leaving Dorchester he wrote to 
his father to secure for him a school, if possible, in the town of 
Franklin for the coming winter. In this he succeeded. In the 
early autumn of this year he began his journey through college 
by attending the Holliston Academy, where he found a life-long 
friend in Rev. Amos H. Coolidge, now of Leicester, a fellow student, 
whose account of those days will tell you what I could not. He 
says: "Mr. Richardson and I were members, in 1847, ^^ the 
Holliston Academy, under the charge of Mr. Henry L. Bullen ; 
we soon became acquainted, and the acquaintance ripened into 
an intimate friendship. Out of study hours we were inseparable 
companions. I well remember our gymnastic contests with impro- 
vised apparatus in a grove back of my boarding place. Although 
sober and earnest in aspect, there was another side to his character, 
and he entered into these sports with all the zest which marked 
his devotion to more serious pursuits. Which excelled, or how 
our records would compare with those of the present day, in which 
athletic exercises have become so prominent in the schools, 
I cannot now say. 

" Mr. Richardson's purpose, like my own, was to pursue a 
course of liberal study with reference to the ministry. His life 
was characterized by strict consistency and earnest and devout 
piety, and by the single desire to serve Christ's kingdom and 
win souls. His heart was set on the Christian ministry, to which 
we had both given our lives. 

" He entered the school in apparently robust health, coming 
from active outdoor work in nurseries. He devoted himself with 
great ardor to the study of Latin and Greek, studying fifteen and 
sixteen hours a day. It soon became evident that the change in 
his mode of life was telling upon his health. After struggling 
for a time he was forced to suspend his studies, and at length, 



40 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 8. 

after repeated trials, to abandon the plan of his life. I knew 
him well in those days, and I know that this was the greatest 
disappointment he ever met. But though baffled and at last 
defeated he did not murmur or lose heart. When one course 
was shut against him he accepted others that opened successively, 
and thus he found at last his place. 

" It seemed to him, as it did to me, a dark Providence that 
prevented him from entering the ministry when men of such caliber 
and piety and consecration were so much needed. But I can see 
now, and I have no doubt that he came to see, how over that dark 
path God was leading him to the mission of his life, was reserving 
for him the work for which he was so well fitted, and opening to 
him a sphere of Christian influence far wider than that of any 
pulpit. 

" I have been touched in perusing some old letters from him 
that I had laid aside for more than forty years, and which I did 
not know were in existence, not only by their expressions of per- 
sonal friendship, but by the Christian spirit they breathe and by 
their unconsciously pathetic references to his early trials, baffled 
as he was in his high aims by recurring failures of health, as well 
as by the calm and courageous determination they reveal to serve 
in other ways the cause to which he had consecrated his life. 
It has been a pleasure to me to renew these recollections." 

He had begun his work too eagerly, though this eagerness 
arose from a desire to shorten his preparatory course as much 
as possible. Being obliged to leave the school and go home he 
still hoped that a temporary rest would restore him. A long rest, 
however, was absolutely necessary, and though he attempted to 
teach schoo> he broke down, thus adding another bitter drop to 
his cup of trial. With all these failures I find he still had some 
hope that he might yet overcome and be able to enter college 
the next year with his friend. He made the attempt, the result 
of which appears in the following letter : 

"School is now about half done; I am sorry to leave, of 
course, but 'nature must obey necessity,' you know. . . . My 
health was not very good any of the time, and therefore I did 
not go very steady nor press onward. I have learned something, 
however. . . . 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 8. 4I 

" Friend Coolidge, the prospect for my obtaining a collegiate 
education looks more and more desponding. I hope that I myself 
may never be left to faint and despond. As the Lord shall favor 
me I still hope and intend to pursue my studies with the confidence 
that I may be able to occupy the position of a teacher, if it be 
his will that as a minister of Christ I preach not the gospel." 

I suppose no words can express the grief and disappointment 
that overwhelmed for a time your grandpapa when he came at last 
to the consciousness that there was no longer hope for him to 
succeed in his desired purpose. I am sure that no sorer distress 
of mind ever came to him. Though in after years he suffered 
sorrows of affliction and mourned the loss of children, these 
bereavements scarcely brought to him the terrible weight of dis- 
appointment occasioned by the giving up of this cherished hope 
of his heart. From this time on he saw that whatever education 
he obtained must be secured by a slow and careful process. When 
only seventeen he taught his first school with marked success, 
and afterward found no difficulty in obtaining a situation when- 
ever he sought one ; therefore he was led to attend some State 
normal school, with hopes of fitting himself more thoroughly 
for the profession of teaching. In the year 1848 he entered the 
normal school at Westfield, where I was then a pupil. I shall 
never forget how we, the old pupils of one term, secured our seats 
early that we might watch the new class as it came in and pass 
our judgment upon each one as he entered and took his seat. 
I can see so well today that array of twenty as fine-looking young 
men as ever formed a class in any school. My eyes selected and 
rested upon your grandpapa's frank, ingenuous face, and turning 
to my seat mate I whispered, " That young man is my choice ; 
I shall win him." 

She laughingly replied, " Dearie me, I had chosen him, but 
if you say he is your choice then I will take the one who wears 
glasses and has such a heavenly countenance ; I think he must be 
the one whom they say was studying for the ministry and broke 
down; he looks decidedly ministerial." She was joking, but I was 
in earnest, though she little dreamed it. 



42 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 9. 



LETTER No. 9. 

I REMAINED out of school for scvcral days the first week, and 
it was not strange that when I returned the next Monday your 
grandpapa's attention was drawn to me as a newcomer, or that he 
was interested to know who I was. Perhaps it was a bit singular 
that my eyes should go roaming about to find the face which had 
so impressed me on the opening day of school. We were in the 
same classes and necessarily interested in the same studies, but 
we did not become acquainted until near the middle of the term. 
Then, shall I confess it ? I sought his aid in my algebra lesson, 
though I did not need it. From that time on we were good friends, 
yet, singularly enough, we were very careful not to manifest any 
warmth of feeling toward each other until after a certain com- 
munion Sunday when each, unknown to the other, had watched to 
see if the other was a guest at the table of our Lord. From that 
time onward we knew and felt that there was a link between us 
to justify a closer friendship. I find another letter written to his 
friend Coolidge telling him somewhat of his expectations and 
hopes in attending this school. I will give you an extract from it : 

Westfield Normal School, April 24, 1849. 

My Dear Friend Coolidge : 

. . . Feeling confident that I should not be able to resume classical 
studies, I at length concluded to come here hoping that I might be able 
to take up the common branches, though my advancement be not rapid. 
It will be three weeks tomorrow since school commenced, and I rejoice 
to say that I feel quite as well as for several weeks before. I have taken 
no studies except the three common branches, and have not studied much 
upon those. I anticipate much enjoyment here, as all who attend have 
the same motive in view and wish to cooperate in the common cause. 
Suppose you are expecting to come up this way the coming fall [mean- 
ing to college in Amherst]. I wonder if you are 'lotting upon it much ? 
O that I enjoyed the same anticipation ! But I am thankful that I am able 
to pursue study with the idea of qualifying myself as an English teacher. 
It seems but a very short time since we were associated together as 
classmates ; indeed, I can hardly realize that it is so long. Time will 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. g. 43 

soon bear us away into the limits of eternity, and what a work we have 
to perform here in order that we may answer the great end of life! If 
we are faithful and work while it is day we have the sacred promise of 
that rest which remaineth for the people of God. When I consider how 
little I am accomplishing for the cause of Christ and how much engaged 
in the employments of the world, sometimes the thought rushes upon me, 
What evidence have I of being a child of God.'' What a solemn ques- 
tion it is ; what solemn future realities rest upon it ! Still do I hope that 
Christ is formed in me " the hope of glory," and it is my fervent prayer 
that I may so live as to honor that blessed cause for which my Saviour 
died. If we are only faithful here what a joyful meeting shall we and 
all the people of God experience in that world of bliss which is to come. 

Tuus amicus, c. A. R. 

During the winter a powerful revival was in progress in West- 
field. We were both deeply interested and took an active part in 
the meetings. Your grandpapa's earnest life was reflected, in 
great measure, on his schoolmates, as many of them assured him 
in subsequent correspondence. Unfortunately, most of those let- 
ters, with scores of others, I destroyed after your grandpapa went 
to his long home. This seemed wise at the time, as I expected 
soon to follow him, not once supposing that I could ever recover 
strength enough to do what I am now doing for you. I find this 
one letter which probably escaped my notice, but it breathes the 
spirit of many : 

Blandford, December, 1849. 
Dear Friend : 

. . . During the first of the term I hardly became acquainted with 
you, but I marked you as one who does not live altogether in the scenes 
of this world ; whenever I think of our past in school you are before 
my eyes. I cannot forget you. I remember the last time we met together 
for social prayer. You sat in the corner by the stove, I sat opposite. 
You addressed us, and as you stood before me I recollect your form, 
your voice, your countenance as if it were yesterday. Your words sank 
deep into my heart. . . . 

Accept my thanks for your interest in my welfare and know that 
you are not forgotten by Your Schoolmate. 

In this deeply interesting religious work your grandpapa and 
I were thrown more or less together. Our sympathies being en- 
listed in the same cause our friendship grew apace, and on my 



44 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 9. 

twentieth birthday he became my accepted and acknowledged 
lover. Near the end of the term he was obliged to go home on 
account of ill health, and I find another of his characteristic letters 
a few weeks later to his friend Coolidge : 

Medway, July 24, 1849. 
My Dear Friend: 

It is indeed discouraging to have one's ambition so hemmed in 
and cramped by sickness, still I hope that I am in some degree thank- 
ful for the blessings I enjoy. When I went to Westfield it was doubt- 
ful whether I could stay a fortnight, but I did stay more than twelve 
weeks. My advantages were good, and had I been able to make close 
application to study I might have improved much. 

Friend Coolidge, I wish you much success in your studies, and 
hope that, your labors being at length accomplished, you may be per- 
mitted to proclaim the gospel of peace. You have a glorious prospect 
before you. Do not our own souls and those of our dying fellow 
men present unparalleled inducements for labor? O how valuable is 
a Christian's hope ! What could we do without it ! 'Tis, indeed, an 
anchor to the soul. My own feelings accord with yours, while I join 
with you in saying that it seems to me I am doing but little indeed 
for the souls of sinners, though I think I do take a great interest in 
their welfare. Sometimes feelings arise in my mind which lead me 
almost to feel that one so unworthy cannot be a Christian. Yet I 
think I have faith in Christ, and I look forward with joyous anticipa- 
tions to the time when I shall be delivered from the power of sin and 
all its alluring charms. 

The religious advantages at Westfield were very good. I enjoyed 
my mind most of the time while there. I shall depend upon you to 
write me a good long letter, filled not with the anticipations but reali- 
ties of college life. 

Your sincere friend, c. A. R. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. lO. 45 



LETTER No. 10. 



In the autumn of 1849 he attended the normal school in 
Bridgewater, and thence went to Montague to teach a district 
school which had been offered him for that winter. He was 
unusually successful in this school, and before leaving made prep- 
aration to open a select school in the autumn before the annual 
town school for winter should begin, which he had been asked 
to take again. The summer before the opening of his select 
school I went with him to make my first visit to the old home- 
stead. We were having a joyous vacation when your grandpapa 
was taken very ill with typhoid dysentery, and was confined to 
his bed for weeks, his life hanging in the balance for days while 
his mind was wandering in the mazes of delirium, God mercifully 
spared him, however, to give happiness to many years of my life. 

Though scarcely able to do so, he went to open the select 
school at the date specified in the autumn, which, greatly to his 
surprise, he found was to be quite large, and he sent for me to 
come to his assistance. He continued this school for two years. 
While in Montague his religious influence was as strong and per- 
suasive as everywhere else. As soon as he was established in 
his school his next step was to identify himself with the church 
and give to it his best efforts. Always at the prayer meeting, 
regularly at Sabbath service and at Sunday school, the pastor 
found in him a help and a comfort. Ever putting foremost his 
labors for the Master, his life was an example of living faith. I 
want to send you a letter which he received the next year after 
he left Montague to take charge of a school in the vicinity of 
Boston. It was from this same pastor, who became a warm and 
lifelong friend. The letter manifests the high esteem in which 
he was held by this faithful minister. To me it is an evidence 
of the brotherly love existing between them : 

Montague, February 9, 1852, 
My Dear Mr. Richardson : 

Would a short Monday morning's letter from me be better than 
none ? Surely you will not get any this week unless I take this time 
when I'm hardly competent to the task of playing with a dry quill. 



46 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. lO. 

much less to tliat of composing a letter. I think I must give all my 
strength to my people. What ! have you a prospect of a revival ? 
O, no; not as we commonly count prospects! Sinners are full of play 
or business, the youth whisper as boldly on the Sabbath as ever, the 
church is no means alive, our last Thursday's meeting was thin. But 
I look up and it looks bright and promising; it shines on high. The 
love of God in sending his Son shines ; the cross of Christ shines ; 
the promises shine — especially the promise of the Holy Ghost; and 
it seems to me sometimes as though I saw Satan falling like light- 
ning to the ground and the kingdom of Christ coming with power. 
And when the infinite grace of God in Jesus Christ gives me to see 
such shinings above, I surely ought to employ all my little strength 
in using means toward bringing in Christ's kingdom. . . . Now, my 
dear friend, give me liberty to urge you to one thing. You know we 
are bid to exhort one another daily. Be sure you please Christ. Do 
not consult the wishes of men ; that is, do not aim as your end after 
the honor that cometh from men or their good will even, except so far 
as they will the same that Christ does. Look up to the eye of Christ, 
and aim only, only in all things to see that beam with smiles. Then 
if I do the same — and I beg your prayers that I may — then you and 
I will meet one day on those glorious heights above and look back 
even on our sins and mistakes and triumphs and bless the Lord for- 
ever and ever. 

I remain very affectionately yours, J. H. Merrill. 

Be sure, my dear brother, you do not fail to pray most earnestly 
for the conversion of our youth. I cannot be denied this. 

J. H. M. 

In many ways this good man proved to him a friend indeed. 
I think you will like to read this extract also, which I find in a 
Report of the Board of Education, on normal schools, several 
years later. It was from the same kind hand : 

. . . To this I may add a word from my individual experience. 
Upon being appointed, several years since, prudential committee of the 
center district in Montague, where I then resided, I repaired at once in 
person to the normal school in Westfield and selected and engaged a 
teacher. That gentleman taught two winters and two select schools 
in Montague, and in my opinion, by the improvements he introduced in 
discipline and instruction, he was instrumental of incalculable good to 
the whole town. Also quite a number of youths, attending scliool and 
learning his methods he introduced, afterwards taught school in Mon- 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I O. 47 

tague and elsewhere greatly to the acceptance of school committees. 
The introduction of normal school improvements brought on a new 
era in the district schools in one town in the State to my personal 
knowledge. Very respectfully, 

Your obedient servant, J. H. Merrill. 

Perhaps you would like to see, too, the notice of the select 
school as it appeared in the papers : 

SELECT SCHOOL IN MONTAGUE. 

The subscriber will open a select school on Monday, April 7, 1851. 
The term is to continue eleven weeks — no school on Saturday. As 
usual we shall aim to be thorough. As the school will probably be 
small, patrons may rest assured that the advancement and general 
deportment of the pupils will be well cared for. Tuition as last fall 
— $3.00 and $3.50, depending upon the branches pursued. 

C. A. Richardson. 

In 185 1 he was elected to a grammar school in South Maiden 
(now Everett), where he was to have an increase of salary and 
a larger school. He knew that it had the reputation of being a 
rather hard one, but had no idea of the trial in store for him in 
making this change. 

In the follovi^ing extract from a letter by one of the committee 
you will notice an allusion to the doubt in your grandpapa's 
mind as to whether he had better leave the school in Montague 
without having given some notice of an intention to do so : 

Malden, December 29, 1851. 
Mr. Charles A. Richardson : 

... I cannot, in the compass of a letter, give you much definite 
information concerning the character of this district. It is inhabited by 
sons of Adam, who are very much like their brethren in these parts of 
New England. I know not that you will meet with any encouragements 
or discouragements except such as commonly fall to the lot of gentlemen 
of your profession. There is no insubordination in the school, though 
it is and long has been at a low stage of improvement. This gives 
you, if you should undertake it, the better chance to show what you can 
do. If you should succeed in raising the school to life you will at once 
secure the confidence and affection of a thriving community where you 
may, if God please, spend many pleasant and profitable years. If you 



48 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. lO. 

should distinguish yourself you will have a prominent place in the line 
of promotion. . . . 

You need not feel any scruples about leaving your present situation. 
Your post is like any other public office, which the incumbent is 
always at liberty to resign for reasons satisfactory to himself. Your 
school committee would not hesitate to discharge you or any other 
teacher at a day's notice if they saw cause to avail themselves of the 
express provisions of the law in that respect. You have the same moral 
and legal right to discharge them if you can better yourself by so doing. 
I hope that you will feel this a call in divine Providence to change your 

location. . . . 

Yours very respectfully, A. W. McClure. 

At this time I was teaching a select school in Plymouth Hollow, 
Connecticut. Your grandpapa thought it would be quite as pleas- 
ant for me to assist him in school as to be teaching elsewhere, 
so it was decided that we be married the coming spring and I take 
the place of his present assistant. Accordingly I sent in my res- 
ignation and left my pleasant situation in April. We were mar- 
ried the third day of May, 1852. In my next I will tell you of 
a trying experience in connection with his teaching the school in 
Maiden. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II. 49 



LETTER No. 11. 

The school in Everett proved to be a hard one, though it 
increased in numbers and in popularity under the new instructor. 
The parents appeared to be pleased and the children to enjoy their 
studies. But there was one boy, about sixteen years old, who had 
made no end of trouble in previous terms, and whose father called 
to see the teacher to talk over with him the conduct of his son. 
He was rather a rough man, but evidently wished his boy to do 
well. 

" If Fred don't do right," said he, " I want you to lick him ; and 
if I know when he's been licked at school I'll lick him agin when 
he gits home, I want you to make a good boy of him." 

Your grandpapa thanked him for his interest, and assured him 
that he should try to do his best for the boy. 

A number of weeks later your grandpapa came home one 
night looking much disturbed, and when I asked the cause he said 

" I am in great perplexity over Fred ; he has done something 

that I hardly know how to deal with. School was just out this 
noon and most of the pupils gone when H , a rather trouble- 
some girl, who was talking with him, said something to anger him, 
then ran to the platform where I was sitting. Fred seized one of 
those solid glass inkwells and deliberately aiming at her threw it 
across the room with all the strength he could command, accom- 
panied with some profane and angry exclamation. Fortunately the 
bottle just failed of its mark, otherwise it must have killed her. 
I jumped to my feet frightened and called him to me. 

" ' Do you know,' said I, ' that if that missile had hit H 

it would probably have killed her ? ' 

" ' I wish it had. That's what I meant to do,' he replied." 

For an instant your grandpapa could make no reply, then in 
substance he said : " Such a high-handed act as this, Fred, deserves 
more than ordinary treatment ; you can go now. I will think the 
matter over and attend to the punishment at another time." 

He visited his committee one by one ; he consulted with his 
pastor ; he thought over it, prayed over it, and passed two restless 
nights over it. All his advisers agreed that a severe punishment 



50 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II. 

was necessary, but left to the discretion of the teacher what the 
nature of that punishment should be. In those days the pupils 
were not suspended from school for misbehavior. Corporal pun- 
ishment was resorted to and approved everywhere. 

When three and a half days had passed Fred was told to 
remain after school, and two of the older pupils were detained 
as witnesses to the punishment. Fred confessed to his wrong, 
acknowledged his deserts, took off his coat at the request of 
the teacher, and received several blows across the back from the 
master's switch without flinching or uttering a sound. The next 
morning he was in his accustomed seat at school a well-behaved 
boy, and nothing was heard from the punishment except a satis- 
factory approval from many of the parents. 

A few days later, however, the girl who had been the cause of 
the trouble disobeyed some rule of the school — the same for which 
she had been reprimanded several times before, and had been 
assured that if the offense was repeated she would be feruled. 
The teacher kept his word, and she was given three blows on her 
hand. This angered her so, that on going home she greatly exag- 
gerated the story to her mother, who also made much ado about it. 
She made complaint to the committee, taking the aggrieved child 
with her, her hand snugly bandaged so as to induce pity. The 
removal of the bandage was demanded, and finding no occasion 
for sympathy the committee decidedly upheld the teacher in his 
discipline. Incensed at her failure she resolved on some other 
course for redress ; she went to Fred's father, who had not been 
told of the punishment, and asked if his boy had recovered from his 
terrible whipping. 

" What whipping ? " asked the father. 

" Why, the whipping that he got at school on such a day," 
mentioning the day. 

"I didn't know that he had one. I hain't heard about it," he 
replied. 

" Didn't hear anything about it ? Why, it was terrible ! " 

" I guess it didn't hurt him much, for he didn't say nothing 
about it himself. Shouldn't wonder 'f he deserved it," and the 
father paid but little heed to her. The cunning woman knew with 
whom she had to deal, and was not easily turned aside from her 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II, 5 1 

purpose. She now put the subject in a new light before him — 
magnified the disgrace to himself, the insult to his honor, the posi- 
tion it gave him before others if he let it pass without protest. She 
worked her card well until she was sure she had stirred up the lion 
in him and then left. That evening he came to see your grandpapa 
and demanded of him some apology. No explanation of the mat- 
ter or reference to his former desire to make a good boy of his son 
had any efifect ; he talked in a very abusive manner, and finally 
when he left he vowed "he'd have the law " on him. This threat 
he carried out, and your grandpapa was summoned to appear 
before the justice of the peace and answer to a charge of " assault 
and battery." The trial justice was unsatisfactory, and the case 
was put over to the supreme court. The committee was unani- 
mous in grandpapa's favor, and the many friends of the school ral- 
lied around him ; but it made no difference, the trial must go on. 
Meantime he had been asked to take a school in Dedham. 
This was an agreeable change, though the cloud of that expen- 
sive trial was weighing heavily upon him. At length the case 
was tried, and the jury stood six to six. This unsatisfactory result 
angered the father still more, and again he appealed to the supe- 
rior court. This was indeed discouraging to your grandpapa, 
especially so when he knew that it was urged simply from a sense 
of injured pride and unwillingness to be defeated. We were con- 
stantly hearing remarks to the effect that the father regretted 
having meddled with the case — "His boy had never learned so 
much nor behaved so well. The whole thing was a mistake." 
While your grandpapa's case was up, we were told of several simi- 
lar cases that were being tried. A change was evidently working 
in the minds of people as to the methods of managing the public 
schools. A letter from grandpapa's lawyer reads : 

. . . Since you left me Mr. C.'s case has been tried and resulted in 
a disagreement the same as yours, with a difference that the majority 
was against him ; and yet the case was a better case than yours, and more 
ingeniously and forcibly put to the jury. ... It was the first jury ; yours 
was the second. Upon the return of the jury in your case the judge 
admonished the district attorney that in his opinion the interests of the 
Commonwealth did not require another trial of your case, and advised 
that you be allowed to go upon your own recognizance at present, and 
ultimately the indictment be nolle pros'd, if in the meantime no new 
complaints were made against you. ... C, 



52 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II. 

But relief was coining to your grandpapa sooner than he knew 
through the father himself, A letter came, just before the public 
examination of his school in Dedham, telling him to go at once to 

Mr. , for he was all ready to sign a paper which should nolle 

pros the suit. Here was a quandary. He could not adjourn the 
examination, neither could he leave it in other hands. I suggested 
that I go and obtain the paper from his counsel and take it over 

to Mr. ; he could sign it for me perhaps as well as for him. 

Grandpapa looked at me with amazement. I had been quite an 
invalid for months, and such a proposition seemed almost wild ; 
he would not listen to it. I entreated, however, that he could not 
go, neither could I care for his school. It was necessary to attend 
to the matter then. God would give me strength if that was the 
thing to be done. After long entreaty I prevailed. I must start 
early in the morning for Charlestown, find the lawyer, get the 
papers, then go to South Maiden via Chelsea, taking an omnibus 
there which would leave me at the house of a friend, who would 

take me to Mr. 's and witness with me the signing of the 

document. 

Early next morning I was sped on my way through a thick, 
falling snow by the tender prayers of an anxious husband that 
I might be kept in the hollow of God's hand whatever the success 
of my errand. Can you imagine what a day of suspense that must 
have been ? I was very early at the lawyer's office, and while I 
stood shivering in the hall another door opened, and I was invited 
in to sit by the stove until Mr. C. should arrive. I had not long to 
wait. I asked with trembling if I could do the work as well as 
your grandpapa, and was answered with an encouraging smile and 
the words, " Yes ; and better, far better, for he'll have more sym- 
pathy for you." You may be sure that I was comforted. 

When the paper was put into my hand 1 started with consid- 
erable lightness of heart for Chelsea. I reached there to learn 
that the omnibus had just left and that there would not be another 
until the middle of the afternoon. It was nearly a mile and a half 
to my friend's house. The storm had increased in fury, and the 
wind was blowing a gale. My strength was exceeding small to bat- 
tle with such odds across that open marsh. Nevertheless, I thought 
I must go, so I ventured. How many times I stopped on that jour- 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II. 53 

ney, thinking I might never breathe again, I cannot say. But after 
repeated rests with my back to the wind I at last reached the 
friendly shelter. I have often called to mind the exclamation of 
Mrs. G. when I was ushered into her sitting room, and my speech- 
less exhaustion as I almost fell upon the couch. She gave me 
warm drinks, chafed my hands, warmed my feet, put comfortable 
wraps about me, and bade me lie still until I was recovered. 
I had just begun to tell her my errand when her husband entered, 
and I delivered up my paper to him with the lawyer's message. 

" Ah," said he, " this is just what I have been wanting to see ; 
my horse is harnessed and I'll drive over at once. He is at home 
now, for I saw him but a few minutes ago, and he spoke on this 
very matter and said he wished the thing was done with. He'll 
sign it gladly enough, though he may want to make a little show 
about it." Then turning to me he added, " Mrs. Richardson, you 
remain just where you are ; it is quite unnecessary for you to go ; 
in fact, I think I can do better alone. I'll be back shortly with 
papers signed and everything all right." And so he was, and 
laughingly shook the paper in my face, saying such kind and 
pleasant things that the nervous tension was relieved, and I — 
well, I was overjoyed, and quite broke down. 

" I never saw a man more pleased than he was to put his 
name to those papers," said he, " though he was a little afraid what 
his friends might say, and exclaimed : ' I never should have gone 
into this if I hadn't been driven to it. Why, I would hold up 
both hi:..nds to have that man come back into the school again.' " 
My kind friend then took me in his carriage to the station, and 
I returned with inexpressible gladness to a waiting and anxious 
husband, carrying the good news. 



54 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 12. 



LETTER No. 12. 

We spent two happy years in Millvillage, Dedhain, but I will 
not write you of your grandpapa's labors there, for they are better 
told by another. When he entered the school he issued this cir- 
cular to the parents, showing what he wanted to do : 

To the Patrons of the Grove Gratiimar School: 

My object in addressing you is to seek your hearty cooperation in 
carrying out my plans for the improvement of those committed to my 
care. 

The interests of your children are as dear to you as life itself, and 
next to yourselves he who occupies the position of their teacher, if he 
is of the right spirit, can do most toward advancing their interests. 

The earnest desire which I feel for their advancement and the repu- 
tation of the School induces me to call your attention to the absolute 
importance of regular zxxdi punctual attendance. 

Those who are absent must lose the instruction imparted to the 
others, or else the classes must be retarded while the teacher goes 
over the same ground again as a special favor to the absentee ; hence 
the absence of a child for a single half-day is a matter of no little 
cojiseqnence. 

Every tardy scholar must disturb the School in entering, and call 
their attention from study nearly a moment, making in the aggregate 
nearly half an Jiour. 

It is estimated that the time of children ten or twelve years old in 
school is worth 07ie dollar per day, and out of school only 7iinepence ! 

In view, then, of the good of the School, and the importance of 
training your children to correct and steady habits, will you not deter- 
mine that they shall be sent regularly j and will you not encourage the 
learning of at least one lesson at home ; and, moreover, will you not 
encourage all our hearts and cheer us in our arduous toils in pursuit of 
knowledge by your frequent visits to the Schoolroom. 

Hoping that these few suggestions may be of use in securing unity 
of action in our efforts to promote the true interests of the School, 
I remain your and your children's friend, 

C. A. Richardson. 

Millvillage, Dedhain, April 28, i8jj. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 12. 55 

This proved a stimulus not only to the pupils, but to the 
parents as well. The following report witnesses for his school : 

No. Three, Millvillage. 

It is perhaps the Ajax of the schools. It has more vitality and 
muscle and nerve than we ever witnessed there before — the first division 
particularly. Hesitancy was ruled out of the schoolroom ; every scholar 
was up to time; exercises were conducted right merrily; it was as dan- 
gerous for a scholar to stumble as for an engineer to fall in running to a 
fire — the rest were sure to run over him ; hence very few stumbled. 
It was an excellent school. Other districts must be on the alert or 
number three will pass them out of sight. 

Aprils, jSs4- 

At the close of your grandpapa's labors in Dedham as a 
teacher, his school gave an exhibition, which was held three even- 
ings, the hall being found insufficient to accommodate the crowds 
who wished to attend. It may amuse you to read one of the 
notices that were issued, also the programme of exercises : 

AN EXHIBITION, 

— CONSISTING OF — 

DECLAMATIONS, DIALOGUES, AND MUSIC, 

Will be given on Monday Evening, March 20th, and repeated on Tuesday 
Evening, March 21st, 1S54, by the Grove Grammar School, at 

DR. BURGESS CHAPEL, 

IN MILLVILLAGE, DEDHAM, 
Commencing at 7 o'clock precisely, — FIVE DIALOGUES, three 
of which are original, have been prepared for the occasion, namely : — 

RAILROADS; humorous, by ten lads. 

THE ELOOMERS; by eight Misses, some of whom appear in that 
costume. 

THE SEWING CIRCLE; by twelve young Ladies,— two scenes,— occu- 
pying one hour. 

ALL FOR GOOD ORDER ; scene, a school in session. 

JONATHAN IN THE CITY ; a comedy in four scenes. 

It is confidently hoped that the exercises will not fail to meet the 
expectation of all present. 

ADMITTANCE, TEN CENTS. 

The proceeds of the Exhibition will be expended in enlarging the 
School Library. 



56 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 12. 

The following appeared in a Boston daily : 

Mr. Editor : Our village has been thrown into a very agreeable state 
of excitement by an exhibition, consisting of declamations, music, and 
dialogues, given by the pupils of Grove School for the purpose of enlar- 
ging their library. The first public rehearsal took place Monday evening, 
the twentieth instant; the house was again filled to overflowing on 
Tuesday evening, and at the close of this rehearsal the teacher was very 
unexpectedly called forward and presented with a beautiful Bible — a gift 
of the pupils. Mr. Richardson acknowledged the gift in a neat and 
appropriate speech. The exhibition was given for the third time on 
Wednesday evening. — Boston Herald. 



MEMORIAL LE'lTER, NO. 13. 57 



LETTER No. 13. 

Your grandpapa was beginning to feel much worn at this 
time from the constant nervous drain and the anxiety and solici- 
tude of the past two years ; neither could he feel quite contented 
to remain stationary as to his position in life. He was of too 
progressive a nature to stay in so hampered a position as that of 
a school teacher. He began to look about for some more con- 
genial employment. He thought much of entering the book busi- 
ness in some form, either as a publisher or a dealer ; but having 
had no experience in it, he doubted the wisdom of a venture on 
borrowed capital, though he had several opportunities of doing 
so. He resolved finally to step squarely out of teaching and 
make a start to prepare himself for what he was sure he should 
like. He went to the well-known publishing house of John P. 
Jewett, and offered his services at a very low figure for the sake 
of learning the trade. It required a firm will and a brave heart to 
take this step, with a feeble wife to care for and only the small 
amount of money which he had, by strict economy, laid aside from 
a school teacher's salary to live upon. This, however, he thought 
was the thing to do if he would be a successful man in the busi- 
ness he wished to adopt. Those were hard days, but we were 
young and hopeful, and things took on brighter coloring than they 
do when life has brought its experiences of disappointment, grief, 
and ill health. 

It was some time before we could decide just how we were to 
live, but at length concluded that I had best go home to my 
mother, for a time at least, while your grandpapa would get a 
room in Boston and take his meals wherever he could procure 
them cheapest and most convenient to his place of business. The 
year proved to be one of bitter hardship. Discouragement and 
poverty stared us in the face, dogged our steps, and pierced our 
hearts continually. 

It was always your grandpapa's custom from his earliest 
years to keep a diary wherein even the smallest expenses were 
noted, beside all the important events of his career. It pains me 
more than I can express to read the diary of this year and learn 



58 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I3. 

the privations he endured for my sake, the meager sums he spent 
for food, the solicitude consequent upon my suffering, and the 
tender grief for my enforced absence from his care. I want to 
send you a few of the entries that I find in his diary that you may 
understand a little better what some of the self-denials were which 
he encountered and struggled with. The sums he paid for his 
breakfasts were from eight to ten cents. Once during these weary 
weeks and months I find an entry of eighteen cents for a single 
breakfast. Dinners ranged from twelve to fifteen cents, though 
I find one that cost twenty, while his suppers seldom exceeded 
six or eight cents. 

It is hard for me, my dear grandchildren, to submit even to 
your loving eyes the letters which he wrote me at this time. They 
are full of tender memories and rife with sweet and private 
thoughts for me alone. But I yield these secrets that you may 
know better the real, true heart of your blessed grandpapa, the 
heroism that characterized him, and the Christ spirit that was in 
him through all his experiences : 

Boston, May 22, 1855. 
Dearest Mary Jane : 

... It must be a sad thing for a person to be without a home. 
I now have a chance to learn what it is, though I am yet quite well con- 
tented. I have no doubt that the time will come when I shall wish 
I could go home when night comes. ... I know nothing more as to the 
future than I did when you left. It is dark, but we may trust in God. 
I am very, very glad you did not fail to unbosom all your sorrows to me, 
as I hope you do. Think of one, far away though he be, who still loves 
you more than he loves any other human being, and above all think of 
the love of Christ, and " Let not your heart be troubled." Bear up 
bravely and nobly, whatever may come. I have some of the time for 
a week past felt quite disheartened, but I think the effect of your letter 
has been to encourage rather than discourage me. O, let us pray ear- 
nestly that whatever comes we may have faith in Christ! There can be 
no harm in sorrowing at our separation, but let us be careful that we do 
not carry it too far, lest it be murmuring. Love to all. Hope for the 
best. Good night. 

Boston, May 26, 1855. 
... I have been reading today a book entitled Rich and Poor, 
which is very interesting and goes to show the vanity of wealth. I would 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 59 

like to realize and believe more practically than I seem to the truths it 
inculcates. In contrast how important, how immensely important, is it 
to have the riches which God has promised to them that love him. Let us 
pray for one another that we may follow Christ more closely, more cour- 
ageously, and with more zeal. What a consoling thought it is to feel that 
if in the providence of God while we are separated — if one of us should 
be called from time to eternity, how glorious is the thought that we 
should meet again to be forever with one another and with the Lord. 
I love to contemplate the joys promised to them that love Christ. Pray 
for me that with you I may be wholly conformed to the will and service 
of Christ. It seems cold, lonesome, and gloomy here tonight ; how 
different would it seem if I could but be at home and spend the time with 
you — then it would be short; now it is long. It is quite late, and 1 can 
only say that I have been down to Providence and there is some pros- 
pect of my having a chance to go into business there. Be satisfied till 
tomorrow night when I will write more particularly. 

May 30, 1855. 
My Dear, Dear Mary Jane: 

. . . Amidst all the toil and care and anxiety of the past few days 
I am very much tired out, but my health is pretty good. I am now quite 
hopeful, my dear wife, that I shall go to Providence to remain perma- 
nently. There is no bargain made yet, but I shall endeavor to enter 
upon it tomorrow morning, with the advice of Messrs. Jewett & Co., 
although I do not expect any financial assistance from them. I wrote 
out to Brigham to come and see me this afternoon. He came, and 
although he could not determine definitely whether he would go in with 
me or not, still he promised me some assistance and I shall take courage 
from it to go forward, as the chance seems to be so good. They tell me 
here that I may travel all over the West and spend several hundred 
dollars in looking about, and there will be no probability of finding any- 
thing that will look nearly as well for me as this does. It may not 
amount to anything, but I have strong faith that it will ; but even should 
it be brought to pass, my dear, our means for expending will not be 
materially increased for the present probably, inasmuch as I should 
be so involved that I should feel it a duty to economize in every possible 
way. The main thing is, it would look like something for the future. 
I will write you every day now until the matter is decided one way or 
another. 

Boston, June 3, 1855. 

. . . The business matter rests on just as much probability and 
possibility as it did when I wrote you last. It seems almost certain that 
it must be decided before I write you again. I pray the Lord that it 



6o MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 

may i-esult as it seems to me now to be best; still I feel that he sees 
the beginning from the end, and rejoice that I can commit the whole 
matter into his hand feeling that he can and will do the thing that is 
best. Should this opening pass by, I shall feel that for some reason, 
though unknown to me, it was not best for us that we should go there. 
As you say, it is a privilege to make this the subject of special prayer, 
which I, and I know you, have done. 

My dear wife, you know that although I am pained to hear of your 
feeble health, still I am always desirous to have you open your heart 
to me and tell me all, so that I may be the better able to sympathize 
with you in any pain or suffering. Do not, then, as you value my sym- 
pathy, and as you would have me enter into all your joys and sorrows, 
do not keep from me anything which you have any wish to disclose. 
I hope you are comfortable today and feel the presence of Christ. Let 
us love one another and let us love Christ. 

Have just returned from the union Sunday-school concert at Park 
Street. The house was filled to overflowing, very many standing; the 
children sang very prettily. It would have done you good to be there. 
The Sabbath day is sadly profaned here, the streets are full of stroll- 
ers Sabbath evenings, and probably more iniquity of a certain kind is 
carried on upon Sabbath night than upon any other. How delightful 
would seem the quiet old Puritan Sabbath we have read so much of ! 
I have been reading every Sabbath of late The Footsteps of St. Paul, 
a new and very interesting work. 

How pleasant it is to remember one another at the throne of grace, 
especially on Sabbath eve ! Yes, we can pray for, though not with one 
another. How closely is our existence getting to be woven together ! . . . 



Boston, June 4, 1855. 
... I am alone tonight, and have much of the eve yet to come in 
which to think of you and write to you ; I love to, and I know you love 
to have me. It is not now probable that we shall go to Providence, and 
I have brought myself to feel that, as the providence of God does not 
favor it, it was not best that we should go. I feel so, and I want you to 
feel when you read this that the Lord knows best and that he will direct 
our path. There was a time when I felt that I must go, that it could not 
be otherwise ; that if I did not go there I should feel as though there 
was no opening for us, no ray of light for the future. I have none of 
that feeling now, and I don't wish you to have. Perhaps the Lord is 
carrying us through these scenes that he may try us and show us what 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 6 1 

manner of persons we are; let us, then, look into our hearts and look 
unto the Rock which is higher than we. I think I shall find my forti- 
tude and courage increase and rise higher should misfortune assail us, 
but we cannot yet say that we have been unfortunate ! Surely many 
blessings have attended us. The knowledge and experience I have 
obtained in investigating this Providence matter will always be valuable 
to me, although it results in nothing just now. I have a strong, cheer- 
ful heart, and I want you to have. I was glad to hear from you today, 
but sorry your poor body is no better. After all it better be so than to 
have the soul sick. Now, my dearest earthly friend, be of good cheer ; 
remember the promises of God to those that serve him — "I will never 
leave thee nor forsake thee." 

Boston, June 24, 1855. 

... I have been alone today ; I am not lonely, but still I feel the 
want of home and wife. . . . How delightful to be so near meeting; we 
could walk and thence go together as I have seen hundreds do today, 
and as many times have wished, but we must wait patiently. I trust our 
time will come by and by. Think I told you I should go about to church 
to various places till I found the most congenial one. Am about tired of 
it; want to feel at home somewhere. The mind inevitably gets tired of 
wandering, and wants a home to look to — an earthly and a heavenly 
home. Home is not always happy, but I hope and trust that ours, yours 
and mine, will always be a happy one ; let us be careful and not expect 
too much. There is but one home where we can be fully satisfied ; that 
is heaven. O what a glorious meeting when we are ushered in there and 
can think that we are to go no more out forever ! How unworthy we to 
be admitted to such joys ! But he is faithful who hath promised. Which 
of us shall be there first? Shall we know one another there? Shall we 
sustain any peculiar relation to each other there ? What numberless 
questions of this kind flood the mind when we contemplate those scenes. 
I would bless God for such glorious prospects for those who mourn ; 
to such, dying will be but going home. May these be our feelings 
whenever the last hour shall come. 

Do you remember the prayer meetings we used to attend in Dr. 
Davis' vestry when we were first acquainted? Do you remember the 
prayer meetings we used to have during the fall term? I mean you and 
I alone. It is very pleasant for me to think of them. I hope and trust 
that we shall have many more just as interesting. And now I must say 
good night, hoping to see you before many more Sabbath days shall 
pass, and to spend one with you. Adieu, my love. 

Later. It is now Sabbath night and it is rainy; as I shall not go 



62 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 

out to meeting, I have thought I would express some of my feelings in 
the form of a prayer : 

O Lord, I come before thee in behalf of myself and my loved com- 
panion, who, though far away, is nevertheless near when I come to the 
throne of grace. We love to remember thou God sittest on the throne, 
that we can trust in thee and feel that thou doest all things well. We 
thank thee for this Sabbath ; may its hallowed influence not be lost upon 
our souls ; may we not go our way on the morrow forgetting to what a 
glorious eternity we are aspiring. Although we are the greatest of sin- 
ners we plead for pardon. We look for forgiveness through Christ; 
thou hast promised it, and thy promises are sure. Blessed be thy name 
that thou hast promised to forgive such sinners as we are ; that thou 
dost say, " Whosoever will, let him come and take the water of life 
freely." Our Father, we hope that we have drunk from this living fountain. 
We pray earnestly that there may be no self-deception in our case. We 
know that we have loved the world more than we ought, that we have not 
served Christ faithfully as we promised, but, O Father, we still feel that 
we have a sincere hatred for sin and a strong desire to live for thee. We 
pray that thou wilt help us to subdue all our sinful desires and to give 
ourselves up more fully to thy service. May we joy to deny ourselves 
and to follow our Master. 

Thou, Lord, knowest perfectly well all our circumstances in life ; 
our prospects for time and eternity. We feel it to be a painful experi- 
ence that we who love one another so tenderly are so long separated ; 
but we know thy providence directs it and therefore it is right. O, maj' 
it result in uniting us both more fully to Christ ! We rejoice to commend 
each other unto thee ; may we soon meet again and such events transpire, 
if thou seest best, that we may no longer be separated. Give us neither 
poverty nor riches. May we have what is needful of the good things of 
this life, and though we have nothing, yet having the love of Christ may 
we feel that we possess all things. Thanks be to God that we hope to 
meet in a world where there are no separations ! Preserve us tonight ; 
give us health on the morrow to engage in the duties of the week; guide 
us to the close of life; go with us through the dark valley, and receive us 
to glory through the atonement of Christ. 

Boston, June 29, 1855. 
... I have just got home from the Friday evening meeting at Park 
Street, which was the preparatory lecture. The subject was " Long Suf- 
fering," holding out and bearing up, being able and willing to say, what- 
ever will come, " The Lord hath given, the Lord hath taken away." Mr. 
Stone is a most excellent speaker. I am sure you would be pleased with 
him. There is nothing new to write as to where I am to be, but I must 
know very soon. I think we each feel willing to commit our way unto 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 63 

the Lord. In all my labor I love to feel that I am not only toiling for 
myself, but for you. In any adversity that comes I remember that the 
sadness is for you as well as for me, and when a new ray of promise 
cheers my soul I love to think it is for your happiness and well-being. 

And now once more farewell, having the full assurance that you pos- 
sess the warmest love and most ardent attachment of your husband. 

Boston, July i, 1855. 

... I have just returned from meeting. I find it uncomfortably 
warm today. What a blessing is the Sabbath, temporal and spiritual, if 
we but improve it in the best manner! My thoughts the past week, of 
course, have been very much upon the uncertainty of where we are to 
be, but I think I find myself more and more willing to leave it all with 
God. 

" In the world ye shall have tribulations," Christ says, but he adds, 
" be of good cheer, I have overcome the world ; " and we are to under- 
stand by this that we can overcome the world however much we may 
have to meet. Perhaps the Lord is teaching us to "lay not up treasures 
upon earth," but in heaven. Let us try, my dear wife, to realize how 
infinitely important it is that we should love Christ more than the world, 
and secure his favor rather than the favor of the world. I think that 
with my present feelings I am prepared in some good measure to encoun- 
ter whatever in God's providence we may be called to meet ; and perhaps 
the more adversity, the more fortitude and the more faitli and confidence 
in God. O, let us then toil on whatever come, and hold out, remember- 
ing that "there remaineth, therefore, a rest for the people of God." This 
afternoon is communion season. I wish you were here on that account, 
that we might partake of these emblems together. When shall we again ? 
It may be a long time. I rejoice to know that you can commit yourself 
to the Lord and feel that you are entirely at his disposal, with a perfect 
willingness that he should do with you and with me just as it seems to 
him best. How I long to see you ! . . . 

The following brief note, which was written at the close of 
this long period of anxious waiting, will tell its own story. A place 
was unexpectedly opened for him in the store where he had so 
faithfully learned the duties devolving upon him : 

Thursday Evening, July 5, 1855. 
My Dearest Mary Jane: 

It is a long time since we separated, yet you have borne it heroically 

so far ; can you bear it with as much fortitude if we are to be separated 

as much longer? I think I have been brought to the point where I have 

felt that the Lord's will is my will. Perhaps we have needed just all this 



64 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 

discipline ; may it do us good. . . . Today the decision has come that I 
leave here tomorrow, the sixth instant. You, even, little understand the 
anxiety I have felt to know whether I was to remain. Anxiety not on 
my own account so much as yours. But I can keep you in suspense no 
longer. Can you, do you believe that I am to see you and you see me 
tomorrow? I now expect to arrive in Westfield about half past six 
tomorrow, and my heart would be almost too full to speak it that I am 
to remain here at six hundred dollars, and the hope that we may once 
more be together. Come to the depot if you feel able. I shall return 
next Wednesday night. Isn't this as much as you wish to hear ? 

Charles. 

After the death of his sister Abby, which occurred in 1854 
and when I was absent from him, I received a letter containing the 
following reference to her : 

... I think I have realized today more than before Abby's death. 
I don't know why it is, except that I have had more time to think. How 
easy she died ! Her life seemed to depart like the light of a lamp when 
the oil is burnt out. Her pain at the time, I think, was very little. But 
" the sting of death is sin." How terrible must be this sting, especially 
when accompanied with acute pain! "Thanks be unto God who giveth 
us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 4. 65 



LETTER No. 14. 

I NEED not tell you of the gratitude that now came to your 
grandpapa's heart and mine at the prospect of meeting again to 
be united permanently, as we hoped. 

I have endeavored to show you a little of the deep and firmly 
grounded faith which sustained him at all times and under all trials. 
The struggle through which he had been passing made the bright- 
ness of our future prospects all the more glorious ; yet you can 
little understand how great the brightness was when on July 6 he 
came to Westfield to see me, with a situation established, a salary 
assured, and a prosJDect that we were to have a home. When 
he returned on the eleventh I returned with him for a short stay 
in Franklin with your great-grandpapa and great-grandma until we 
could arrange for more permanent quarters. We soon went to 
South Maiden to board, where we were two very happy people. 
Our hearts were full of praise to God, who had delivered us from 
the gloom of the great cloud that had so long enveloped us. 

Wednesday, October lo, your mamma was laid into my arms 
as my own precious baby. How changed everything seemed to 
us now — the night of our deep darkness gone, the sun shining 
upon a full, clear day of union, home, child ! Could God bless us 
more ? We had not thought to ask for more, but God gave with- 
out the asking. He had had us in his keeping, and we believe 
now that all the trying and hard experiences which we had been 
passing through had been fitting him for the great work he was so 
soon to assume. 

In December we went to housekeeping in Chelsea, and were 
living there frugally on his salary of $600 in the spring of 1856. 
His duties in the store at this time were very laborious, often 
detaining him late at night and calling him early in the morning. 

Just across the street was the office of the Congi-egationalist. 
He often met the men who had its management as they came into 
the bookstore, but I do not think that a thought of ever being 
connected with the paper had crossed his mind at any time until 
Deacon Fay died in 1855. Then your grandpapa naturally asked 
who was to be his successor. He also inquired into the obliga- 



66 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 4. 

tions required of one in such a position, and he became convinced 
that it would be a congenial work, one that would lead into a 
channel of religious study and improvement such as he desired 
more than anything else. He applied for the situation, and after 
due deliberations and formalities was successful. In his diary that 
year I find the following record : 

Thursday, Jamiary //, 18^6. Signed papers to go into the Congi'e- 
gatioiialist ofifice, having bought one fourth part of the paper for $1,375. 
Paid for drawing papers, $2. 

In less than three minutes after he had signed the contract 
which made him an owner, his coat was ofif, and turning to Thomas 
Todd, a young man of all work who had been connected with the 
paper from its beginning, he said, " Thomas, I'm ready to go to 
work ; what shall I do ? " 

Looking up, Thomas replied, " Well, I don't see as there is 
anything to do just now unless you take hold and help me direct 
these papers." 

It was no sooner suggested than he was sitting down to the 
work with a mingled inspiration of energy and ambition, on fire 
with youthful zeal and new-found hopes. He worked with his 
might, but write as fast as he would he saw that Thomas could 
easily turn off three papers to every two of his. He stood it as 
long as possible, then seeing that he could not match him he sud- 
denly stopped, and looking up with the great drops of perspiration 
standing out over his forehead, he called out jovially, "Look here, 
Thomas, you are a fraud ; you know you are putting that all on ! " 

The Congregationalist was one of the several small, partially 
religious papers started the same year with the Independent, in 
1849 ; but it was strictly in the interests of the new school of Con- 
gregationalists, then taking a more liberal position as against the 
extreme views of many of the older theologians like Drs. Nathaniel 
Emmons, Jonathan Edwards, Lyman Beecher, and others. Its head- 
quarters were at 120 Washington Street, in a small room with no 
special editorial apartment ; and the paper was managed in the 
most simple manner, with but little system or regularity, as its su- 
pervisors were all ministers in pastorates. Deacon Galen James, 
of Medford, was the chief owner; Deacon Fay, son of Rev. Warren 
Fay, of Charlestown, was his associate. The editorials were writ- 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 4. 67 

ten under the supervision of Dr. R. S. Storrs, of Braintree, Dr. 
Edward Beecher, Dr. H. M. Dexter, Rev. Parsons Cook, and others, 
who gathered weekly in this one room of all work to hold their 
social and not unpleasant meetings for discussing the necessities 
of the times and the paper, deciding what subjects were to be 
brought before the public and who should be responsible for them. 
Your grandpapa was entirely ignorant of newspaper work, but 
he had a determined purpose, indomitable courage, an unyielding 
will, and an energy that knew no bounds save in physical limita- 
tions. In the new business he spared neither himself nor those 
whom he employed. Since giving up hard study and the nervous 
work of teaching, his habits of living being also changed, he had 
gained in vigor and strength and his health was much firmer, and 
he could not understand why one man should not have equal 
energy with another. He had been interested in the paper for 
some time, and had sent an occasional article to its columns. The 
first one ever published from his pen was a brief account of the 
great revival which occurred in Westfield, of which I wrote you. 
I am glad I preserved it that I may be able to send you this short 
extract : 

\^The First Article in the " Congregational ist.'''''\ 

THE REVIVAL IN WESTFIELD. 
Messrs. Editors : 

I notice it stated in the last Congregationalist, in reference to the 
late revival in Westfield, that several of the young men connected with 
the normal school have become its hopeful subjects. I have waited 
with much solicitude for an account of the interesting work which has 
been accomplished in that institution, thinking that the religious com- 
munity would be interested in the statement. But having seen no 
account, I submit the following to your discretion. The interest com- 
menced in the school about the last of September and extended to both 
males and females. The young ladies held a series of weekly prayer 
meetings during the spring term which continued in the fall, and it was 
proposed to the young men that they should meet for a similar purpose. 
An appointment was accordingly made, but on account of the inclemency 
of the weather and the want of interest, it was not until it had been 
made the third time that the first prayer was offered up. At that time, 
however, there seemed to be considerable interest, and several were 
present who professed no interest in the Saviour. One of whom then 



68 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 4. 

declared himself on the Lord's side and spoke of the peace he had 
found in believing, urging his companions to seek the Saviour then. 
These meetings were held weekly, and the number who attended con- 
stantly increased until almost every male member was included. Never 
shall I forget those prayer meetings, at which many a poor sinner has 
first openly unburdened his guilt or made known his hope in Christ. 
This interest continued to increase until it seemed to be the main topic 
of conversation among the students. At night, upon the close of school, 
might be seen in the hall groups gathered here and there inquiring after 
the welfare of each other's souls or striving to lead some burdened 
sinner to the foot of the Cross. There seemed to be a subject of more 
importance even than intellectual improvement; and in some instances 
individuals were permitted to absent themselves from school, their minds 
being so heavily burdened as to render them wholly unfit for study. 
Never shall I forget the last of that series of prayer meetings. It was 
one of the most interesting and affecting scenes I ever witnessed. There 
were present those who had just tasted the Saviour's love who had met 
as schoolmates for a few short weeks, but were soon to part, perhaps 
never to meet again on earth. It sometimes seems to me that if there 
is efficacy in prayer it must be that the Lord will deign to hear and 
answer the earnest supplications which were then offered that we might 
be faithful and accomplish much good in the world. But the scenes are 
now past; those students are scattered far and wide, many having 
assumed the responsibility of teachers. O, how different were the 
emotions in many minds as they left at the close of the term from 
what they were at the commencement ! As the parting hand was offered 
and the farewell word spoken, earnest was the request, " Pray for me." 
About forty have been hopefully converted, including about an equal 
number of each sex. C. A. R. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 15. 69 



LETTER No. 15. 

When your grandpapa went into the Congregationalist it had 
about four thousand subscribers, yet he saw in it his great oppor- 
tunity to do something in the line of Christian activity, especially 
for the church at large, and he went to work with a determination 
that held within its grasp success. He was ready to toil early and 
late. He realized that the proprietors must be their own workmen. 
In every department his was a ready hand ; if things pressed too 
hard in the business room he was there to help lighten the load ; 
if the mailing was behind, he was on hand to see what he could 
do there ; if books were to be examined and reviewed he took 
them home to read into the late hours of the night. He seldom 
came home to his dinner because he could not spare the time ; 
he looked more or less after the advertising; he was on the alert 
for every bit of fresh news that should help to give dignity and 
patronage to the paper. His first effort was to make it a journal 
which should be indeed a " religious newspaper." This he made 
it, seeking religious intelligence from every possible quarter ; he 
took it upon himself to attend all the gatherings and meetings 
of importance, for he must be his own reporter in those days. 

How weary and exhausted he used to get during the anniver- 
sary week in Boston, when so many different meetings were held, 
morning, afternoon, and evening! If during these meetings he 
found it difficult to finish his report in season to come home for 
the night, he would stay over, not to the luxury of a bed in a hotel, 
for he could not afford that, but often and often in those early 
days he made the counter in his office his bed, with a few news- 
papers for a pillow and his shawl or coat for a blanket. When 
manuscript accumulated so as to crowd upon necessary work in 
the office, he would bring it home by the basketful, and we would 
sit down together for a long evening's work of reading and criti- 
cism. Occasionally I would find in that brainy basket an un- 
opened envelope, which had got accidentally hidden away among 
the papers, containing subscription money. " Ah ! " I would say 
playfully, " this belongs to the finder of course." " I wish it were 



yo MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 15. 

mine to give you," he would answer, "but it belongs to the paper 
and not to me." 

It was a great pleasure to me to be able to assist him in this 
work, and thus share in all his hopes and plans for the future of 
the paper into which he was so joyously weaving his life, beat 
by beat and throb by throb. His aim was high. He sought the 
best for his readers. He prayed for his paper as for his child, 
that he might give to it his highest spiritual and moral life, mak- 
ing it a success for the good of others. He loved the work and 
threw all his soul into its accomplishment until 1 began to fear 
that his health would be undermined. He was young and pro- 
gressive and had not a thought of sparing himself any task that 
seemed necessary. I think the gladness of heart in finding a 
work which he could make sacred, however, sustained him. But 
he never became so absorbed in business as to neglect his reli- 
gious duties. It only increased his zeal for the cause of Christ and 
his ardor for the church. 

Dr. H. M. Dexter still continued his association with the 
journal, writing its weekly editorials. The proprietorship was com- 
posed of Deacon Galen James and Mr. W. L. Greene beside your 
grandpapa. Mr. Greene became one of the partners in the paper 
at the same time with your grandpapa, and at once took charge 
of the business department, your grandpapa being the managing 
editor. Hard as he labored on his own, I find that he often 
secured some minutes for other newspapers. A long report ap- 
peared in the Boston _/o7irna/ by his pen of the meeting of the 
American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, held in 
Providence the year following his initiation into the mysteries 
of newspaper making. 

A second improvement on the paper was to reduce as soon 
as possible the length of many of the heavier articles, especially 
those on theology and kindred debatable subjects, of interest 
mainly to students or persons engaged in professional studies but 
not to the general public nor read by a great majority of the 
subscribers. The labor on newspapers was much more difficult 
then than now. It involved a large amount of manual effort. 
For instance, the books containing the list of subscribers were 
kept in writing instead of being printed. The papers sent in 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 15. 7 1 

single wrappers were folded and directed by the proprietors them- 
selves with the assistance of their employees. They did their own 
mailing, and to secure new subscribers they employed canvassing 
agents. 

In the year i860 the proprietors found their one room quite 
too small and looked for new quarters at 15 Cornhill, whither they 
removed. The list of subscribers in these four years had increased 
not a little, and the managing editor had grown neither sleepy 
nor lax in his daily efforts. His enthusiasm for his work steadily 
increased, and he found a pleasurable excitement in reporting 
meetings in which such men as Dr, A. L. Stone, Prof. C, E. Stowe, 
Rev. Dudley Tyng, and Dr. G. P, Cheever figured. This was just 
before the war when Dr. Nehemiah Adams, supported by Dr, G, W. 
Blagden, uttered on these occasions sentiments of sympathy for 
the South, calling forth protests of disapproval from their audi- 
ences. Once he listened to Henry Ward Beecher in one of his 
great addresses, in which he charged those as being infidels who 
whine at the preaching of the gospel as a penance. Again he at- 
tended a meeting where Drs. J, E. Todd and G, W, Bethune advo- 
cated the cause of the Southern Aid Society. The latter slandered 
the New England ministry, while Drs. Stone and Cheever came 
down with crushing eloquence against slavery. All these were 
thrilling meetings, and made your grandpapa's young blood tingle 
in his veins and set his soul on fire to help in the good cause of 
advancing Christ's kingdom in whatever way he could. 

For more than twenty years he reported the meetings of the 
American Board held in Boston in connection with the May anni- 
versaries. He also reported many of the annual meetings when 
held in distant cities, and the hard work being over he would 
extend his journey in order to gather new material for general 
articles. I will note down for you a few of the places where he 
went to report : Newark, New Jersey ; Salem and Springfield, 
Massachusetts; Providence, Rhode Island, when Drs. Hopkins, 
Anderson, Muzzy, Ferris, and Blodgett figured, and Dr. Thompson, 
of Buffalo, preached the sermon. He was also at St. Louis, 
Missouri; Detroit, Michigan ; Cleveland, Ohio ; Chicago, Illinois ; 
Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; Minneapolis, Minnesota; Rutland, Ver- 
mont, and various other places. He always managed to see some- 



72 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 5. 

thing of these cities and became acquainted with their principal 
characteristics before leaving. He was not confined to the report- 
ing of these meetings in particular, but included all the religious 
gatherings belonging to our denomination, such as the American 
Home Missionary Society, the American Missionary Association, 
Sunday-School Association, Social Science Association, State Con- 
ferences, General Associations, National Council, etc., etc., with 
the great Sunday-School Centenary held in London. 

It was while he was absent on one of these reportorial ex- 
peditions, attending the meeting of the American Board of Com- 
missioners for Foreign Missions which was held in Newark, 
that he met with a perilous adventure which caused us both 
extreme anxiety. He was to be away several days, and I sent 
for your mamma's Aunt N. to come and stay with me. When he 
bade me good-by on the day of his departure he assured me that 
he should take the Sound boat from New York for home at five 
o'clock the next Friday night, and would thus be in the office 
again early Saturday morning. When Friday morning came a 
strange feeling of anxiety took possession of me, and I was quite 
unhappy all day, telling your grandpapa's sister that I felt her 
brother to be in great danger and that I could not wait to hear 
or learn something from him. I was not able to explain my feel- 
ings, neither did I like to tell her the indistinct picture which 
seemed to hang constantly before my eyes all through the day. 
Indeed, I could not define it myself. I simply saw him in great 
peril, as if something was ready to fall upon and crush him, and 
yet it was stayed by some unknown power which would ultimately 
save him. Friday night I slept but little, and on Saturday morning 
I was so overcome by my feelings that I could not control myself. 
It was my usual baking day, but I did not attempt any work. 
I dressed myself and prepared to go into Boston. My sister-in- 
law was greatly surprised and made light of the matter. That did 
not disturb me, and I started with a heavy heart. I went directly 
to the office on Cornhill and climbed the stairs. I dared not 
open the door, though it was nearly ten o'clock and the boat had 
been due three hours previous. Being confident that your grand- 
papa was not there and I should be so overcome that they would 
not understand what to make of it, it was some time before 
I could reason myself into the right feeling, which all the time 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 5. 73 

hovered over me, that while in danger he was to be spared. 
Finally I conquered and opened the door. Deacon James was 
standing near, and immediately after bidding me a cheerful good 
morning said, " Well, Mrs. Richardson, the good man has not 
arrived yet, and we are afraid something has happened to him." 
Looking up into my face he at once changed his tone of fear to, 
" No, I think more likely that they were having such a good meet- 
ing last night he wanted to stay and hear it through, and so failed 
to reach the boat." 

By this time I had recovered myself, and replied : "No, Deacon 
James, he started on the boat last night as he said he should, 
unless he was too ill to do so, and if too ill for that he was too ill 
to send me word. Something has most surely happened to the 
boat — some terrible accident, I fear." He now saw well enough 
the depth of my anxiety, and talked hopefully but was unable to 
reassure me. I said : " My husband always keeps his word ; he has 
never failed me but once since I knew him, and that he could not 
help and notified me as soon as it was possible. So I know that 
he started last night if he were able. He is in trouble." 

Though he urged me to sit and wait awhile, I could not, 
and started down the stairs hardly knowing where I was going. 
I walked aimlessly up Washington Street with my head bowed and 
thoughtless of most that was going on around me. As I was near- 
ing the Old South Church some one laid a hand on my shoulder, 
and I looked up into your grandpapa's pale, haggard face. He 
appeared to have passed through a terrible illness. 

" O, what is the matter ? " I cried. " Nothing now, but I have 
been through a severe shock, caused by an accident on the boat," 
said he. " But, my dear, I am here now, and quite safe, so brighten 
up. I will tell you all about it when I get home. It is enough at 
present to know that I am here. You look ill, and had better go 
directly home ; " which I did. I cannot explain the experience nor 
the strange picture which had impressed me, but when your grand- 
papa told me the story of the accident it looked just as I had 
seen it floating before my eyes. 

It seems that the boat started at the usual time, passed 
through Hell Gate, and was on its way apparently without danger. 
Your grandpapa had sat for some time on deck watching the scene 



74 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 5. 

around, under the splendors of the full moon, and, as he said, 
wishing that I was with him to enjoy it. After getting somewhat 
weary he had gone into the saloon, and was drowsily leaning 
against the central mast when, without warning, the boat was 
shaken from bow to stern as a dog would shake a woodchuck. 
He was instantly on his feet, not knowing what was the matter 
or whither to flee. He knew there was danger, and seizing a 
life-preserver followed the rushing and terrified crowd on deck. 
There he met consternation and alarm. A lurid fire seemed to be 
pouring over the side of the vessel, and every one thought she was 
burning; in their mad haste some were making ready to spring 
overboard, some were only held back by force. It was not long, 
however, before the captain appeared, and shouted : " You are all 
safe ! The vessel is not on fire ; it is only the coal being thrown 
out from under the boiler to check the heating of the water and 
the escaping of steam. We are safe, but disabled. We must 
remain here until we can be taken off by some other boat." Then 
he told them that the walking beam had broken, and had torn its 
way down through the boat, smashing through every floor until 
it reached the iron bottom, where it was stayed and the danger 
was over. 

Your grandpapa went back to the saloon to realize how nar- 
row had been his own personal escape. Where he had sat drow- 
sily resting there was a hole through the floor the size of a small 
bedroom ; the mast against which he had so comfortably leaned 
had been snapped like a pipestem just about where his shoulder 
had rested ; but an invisible hand had been held out to rescue 
him. Our prayers were thanksgivings. What a deep impression 
that experience made upon your grandpapa's life in his sense of 
his own absolute helplessness and his surer rest in the hands 
of a loving God ! It is through just such experiences that we are 
all helped in our own trust and that we help one another ; as proof 
of this statement, at the next Friday evening meeting it became 
the topic for prayer and conference and for devout thanksgiving. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 6. 75 



LETTER No. 16. 



In the year 1861 the great War of the Rebellion broke out. 
This enlarged the scope of your grandpapa's work by the demand 
for fresh news and vigorous opinions. He planned and prepared 
a careful weekly summary of the latest and most accurate war 
news, which proved to be a feature of widespread interest from 
the fact that it was culled and sifted, and therefore always relia- 
ble. None but confirmed news was ever permitted in the sum- 
mary. It was copied extensively by other journals ; and doubtless 
that increased the circulation of the Congregationalist quite a good 
deal, for in 1863 six thousand new names had been added to 
the list of subscribers. 

Your grandpapa was a true Christian patriot. His heart 
throbbed for his country, and at its cry for help he suffered as did 
many another from a conflict of duties. He was in a strait betwixt 
two. He longed to offer himself for his beloved land if needed. 
But was he really needed ? Surely the attack upon Sumter was 
but a flash of defiance, and would shortly be over. I was a help- 
less invalid, and he had a far-reaching and important work upon 
his hands. What ought he to do ? We prayed and talked over 
it, and I did not fail in arguments by which I might hold him to 
my side. I did not mean to be untrue to my home and country ; 
but I pleaded my feeble health ; I pleaded for my children ; I laid 
their claims upon him should they be left orphans by his going ; 
I was wholly unable to cope with the world for their support ; 
and I should be left without means. Then I urged the help he 
might render to a large circle of those who were obliged to send 
sons and husbands by the news through the columns of his 
paper. Still further, I urged that the call was not loud enough 
to summon men in his position until the young men without 
families had offered themselves. Was I to be blamed 'i I was 
so very ill ! O, how reverently I remember his coming to my 
bedside the night after the news of the Baltimore Riot. My life 
had been despaired of for several days. How vividly I recall that 
night when he sat down at the head of my bed, and taking my 



76 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 6. 

hand in his held it very gently without speaking, as if afraid of 
breaking the brittle thread that held me to life and to himself. 
I could feel the warm tears drop one by one, wetting my fingers 
as if kissing them silently. I knew that something agitated him 
greatly, yet I was too weak to talk, and lay very quiet. At length 
he spoke so low and tenderly: "My dear, I have thought much, 
you know, of enlisting for the war, but tonight I give it up. I do 
not feel strong enough to say good-by to you. It breaks my heart 
to see you so ill. I thought when the terrible news of yesterday 
reached us that I must go ; now, when I find you so sick, my 
courage fails me and I shrink and grow reluctant. I must wait 
until the call is louder. As you say, I may not be needed after 
all, so I will wait and see what God will have me do. If he means 
for me to go I will be ready. I do not feel sure now. I can aid 
those who do go, and I will serve those who are left." 

With the heavy burdens that your grandpapa was carrying 
during these trying years of the war not the least among them 
was the severe strain of the imprisonment of his brother, Albert 
D. Richardson, in the Southern prisons for twenty-one long and 
weary months. The thoughts of his sufferings and probable death, 
the distress felt for his poor wife — who was at one time in the 
agony of despair because of no hope, at another buoyed up with 
the most sanguine expectation for his release, until her weary 
brain could bear the torture no longer and death came to her 
relief — the efforts that were constantly being made for his 
freedom by exchange or otherwise, while the government was 
apparently so indifferent to secure it — though probably no one 
in the army had rendered higher or more effectual service as a 
correspondent of one of the leading papers of the land — all 
these things led to a nervous prostration from which your grand- 
papa did not recover entirely for several years. He grew pale and 
worn. About this time I received a call one day from the senior 
partner, who cautioned me with decided feeling to " take good 
care of Mr. Richardson " and to urge upon him the necessity of 
a lengthy vacation ; for, said he, " We at the office are unable to 
induce him to leave. He thinks he cannot be spared because of 
the amount of work and the few to do it. But I tell you, Mrs. 
Richardson, we can let him go now for a little much better 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 6. 77 

than we can afford to have him break down entirely, which he 
certainly will if he does not have some rest. It would be a severe 
blow to us if anything should disable him so as to lay him aside. 
Why, he has the most remarkable executive ability of any man 
I ever met ! " 

The paper had been growing steadily in strength and popu- 
larity and had constantly been increasing in patronage, until in 
1865 it had reached nearly fifteen thousand subscribers and was 
well established as a worthy and reliable religious journal, rep- 
resenting almost exxlusively the interests of the Congregational 
denomination in New England and the East. With the growth of 
the denomination and its increasing power there began to be a 
good deal of agitation with regard to starting a paper for its spe- 
cial representation in the West. Your grandpapa received more or 
less communications from committees appointed to confer on the 
matter. I send you a brief extract from one, that you may under- 
stand how his work as a journalist had become known and ac- 
knowledged in the West : 

Dear Mr. Richardson: 

. . . You have known the history of the Christian Era written by 
itself the last two years. We inclose to you a letter written by Mr. Hand, 
the proprietor, offering it for sale. . . . We greatly need a paper and 
must have one. It has been thought that after a little the three State 
papers might be united in one at Chicago. Upon no one, we think, would 
the friends in the Northwest unite more cordially than upon yourself. 
It is possible that the time has not yet come for such a union, though it 
is possible the other papers would even now consider proposals. 

Our seven hundred churches in the Northwest, our seminary, and 
our denominational interest demand and are suffering for the lack of 
a central organ. No Eastern papers, no Pilgrim letters can take the 
place. We shall be glad to have you consider the propositon of Mr. 
Hand, and in connection with it the whole question of a paper for the 
Northwest. May we not hear from you in this matter? With sincere 
Christian esteem, Yours truly, etc. 

This invitation troubled your grandpapa quite a little, for 
he had many advisers at each end of the line, both to go and 
to stay. He finally decided to remain steadfast and true to his 
first love. The next year the same subject was renewed with 
the following urgent call : 

. . . Everybody in Michigan and Illinois is hungry for an Interior 



jS MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l6. 

paper. You could at once have access to the list of the old subscribers 
to the Congregational Herald, and I think, also, to a large and more 

recent list of names which Mr. has recently gathered. I have no 

doubt that a paper started right here and pushed aright would give five 
hundred subscribers the first year and might be run up even to a 
thousand. All feel the need of a paper. The people want it. . . . 

Yours, etc. 

The project now began to assume a serious aspect, for your 
grandpapa queried whether it might not be a call from God. This 
was one among the trying questions of the year of 1866 to be 
settled. Another cause for anxiety that year was the withdrawal 
of Dr. Dexter from the editorial staff. They had so long depended 
upon him for the weekly contribution to their columns that it was 
with much regret they released him ; but his duties had grown too 
onerous with the building of the new Berkeley Street Church, over 
which he was pastor, and it seemed to him to be an absolute 
necessity to give that and his people his undivided attention, which 
he could not do with editorial work. 

Every change of editorial force demands for a time some in- 
crease of labor from those who remain, especially from the mana- 
ging editor. But the live issues of the Congregationalist must not 
falter under any circumstances, nor did they. With these encroach- 
ments there was no stay of advance. Your grandpapa, having 
often heard the readers of the paper speak of cutting out and 
preserving various articles from its columns, thought perhaps it 
might be a pleasant thing to make some short and desirable selec- 
tions from the paper and publish them in book form. Accordingly, 
during this same year the paper issued a book, entitled Household 
Readings, made up from its own publications. This proved a great 
success as a prize for new subscribers, for which it was used, 
I think, exclusively. 

The year 1866 was also the time for the Triennial Jubilee 
of the Westfield Normal School. Your grandpap^ was president of 
the association, and had many things to attend to in order to insure 
a successful day. As no one can use his strength constantly with- 
out ill effects, for " a continual dropping will wear away stone," 
so when he refused to take the proper recreation nature asserted 
herself, and, refusing to serve his activity longer, laid him upon 
a sick bed with an attack of nervous prostration a few days before 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l6. 79 

the festivities were to occur. His work was accomplished for it, 
but he was denied its enjoyment. He had prepared his address 
of welcome, and hoped with much satisfaction to introduce his 
brother as the speaker of the day. Alas for human hopes ! He 
now realized that he, too, had nerves and was subject to weari- 
ness of the flesh even as others, and that there was no alternative 
but rest if he would pursue his work most effectually. 

Then it was that we took our first carriage trip of any distance 
with health for our aim. With a life in the open air, freedom from 
care, and entire relaxation, he hoped to gain the end desired. As 
soon as he got strong enough to arrange matters at the office 
for a considerable absence, he drove our horse and carriage to 
Derry, New Hampshire, where I was boarding to recover from 
a term of invalidism. After remaining there for a while we went 
out upon a drive of about one hundred and fifty miles, stopping at 
short intervals for rest, or visiting for the night among friends, 
until at length we arrived at the old homestead in Franklin to 
remain for a few weeks of quiet. 

In 1867, the next year, and after an absence of some sixteen 
months. Dr. Dexter was persuaded to resume the place of editor- 
in-chief on the Congregatioiialist. He resigned his pastorate of 
the Berkeley Street Church and purchased an interest in the 
paper. This was a glad day to your grandpapa, though the doctor 
took only the same work as before — the weekly editorials, with 
the addition of the book reviews — but with it was the interest 
and responsibility of a proprietor. The same year your grandpapa 
made strenuous efforts to purchase the old Boston Recorder, with 
several other small papers, and he was successful in running up 
the list of subscribers to twenty-five thousand. With all these 
additions the responsibilities and anxieties grew rapidly, and more 
laborers must be employed. Assistant editors were brought into 
the work, extra hands must be called in, and so the interest was 
ever moving upward. 

In 1869 your grandpapa was so worn that his physician 
declared a long rest and entire relief from office work, with change 
of scene and climate, as absolutely necessary. In my next letter 
I shall tell you what a great surprise came to me, and how this 
change was brought about. 



8o MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 



LETTER No. 17. 

How surprised I was when your grandpapa came home one 
evening and announced to me that he had decided to go abroad 
for awhile, provided he could get a companion to travel with him, 
and asked if I would be that companion ! As I had a dear little 
babe of six months, who was very delicate and required much 
attention, I did not suppose that he could be in earnest, and only 
smiled as I replied that I should really like to go for his sake, but 
did not see how I could leave the baby. 

" Well, then, I must give it up," said he, " because we can 
never do what we are really unable to do. I am sorry ; I have 
seen the doctor today, and he says I ought to have a thorough 
rest and change, and if I don't get it soon I shall be compelled to 
take it ' willy nilly.' I ought not to go alone in my present con- 
dition, that is certain ; but if you cannot leave, why we will drop 
the whole matter and I'll say no more about it. Perhaps some- 
thing else will accomplish as much for me, though the doctor was 
rather anxious that I should try a sea voyage." 

This put a serious phase upon the subject at once, and I asked 
if the decision must be made that night. 

" O, no ! " said he, "but I would like you to think of it rather 
seriously, and tell me as soon as possible, so I may decide soon 
what to do. I am conscious that some change is necessary." 

As I am not writing you about myself it is not important to 
tell you of the mental struggle I passed through in coming to a 
conclusion to leave an invalid babe in the hands of a stranger, 
as I supposed I should be obliged to if I went. 

A kind Providence, however, brought me help in the thought- 
fulness of friends who came to my relief in the care of the three 
little ones I was to leave behind. Your mamma would still remain 
in the family of Rev. J. H. Merrill in Andover, where she had been 
for some months, attending school. The excellent nurse who had 
cared for my baby, but who had already made arrangements to go 
home, kindly offered to take the two younger children (the baby, 
Mary Agnes, and your Aunt A., who was then seven years old) 
to Westfield to remain with them under your great-grandmamma's 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 81 

loving supervision until we could return from our journey. Now 
what could I say? You see that I had no excuse for not going, 
and at the end of a w'eek we began to make plans for our depar- 
ture. We gave our little one into God's hands ; we feared that she 
was already sealed for transplanting not many months hence. 
But your grandpapa was ill and had need of me, and my place 
was at his side first. Duty could lead in but one path. 

In a little more than two weeks the younger children, with the 
nurse, were at their grandmamma's. I remained in Boston to clear 
out our rooms and prepare the goods for storing. We were to 
sail on the steamship " Pereire " of the French line to Havre. After 
disposing of our goods I was to follow the children to Westfield 
on Wednesday of the week of our sailing. Grandpapa was to 
join me Thursday night, on Friday we would go on to New York 
to spend the night with your Uncle Albert, and on Saturday we 
were to sail. Thus far everything had been very propitious and 
a smiling providence had surrounded us. But discouragements 
were in store and our faith was to be sorely tried. When I reached 
Westfield on Wednesday I found our precious baby too sick with 
congestion of the lungs to recognize me. The physician was out 
of town ; but fortunately I had with me my case of homeopathic 
remedies, and I immediately prepared the proper medicines and 
began to administer them often and regularly, at the same time 
applying cold compresses to the chest of the little sufferer. All 
night I watched her breathing, attended promptly to every neces- 
sity, and in the morning I had the satisfaction of seeing a great 
improvement in her condition. On Thursday she appeared quite 
like her sunny little self. As you will recollect, I was to expect 
your grandpapa at seven o'clock that evening. When seven o'clock 
came he did not appear; eight, nine, ten, and even eleven o'clock 
came, and yet he remained away. For two nights I had not slept, 
but nothing could pull my eyes together now, as I watched and 
waited with almost feverish anxiety. At length, shortly before 
twelve, I caught the sound of his familiar " ahem," and soon the 
door opened and he came softly upstairs to tell me that he was 
safe, though an accident had occurred which might easily have 
proved very serious. One mile east of Palmer a rail was broken, 
which threw the entire train from the track. The scene was fright- 



82 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 

fill, but no one was injured. With these several disasters so 
quickly upon us, the anticipated journey took on an air of dread 
which I had not expected. But there was no time for forebodings 
now, nor for delay, and early Saturday morning found us on our 
way to New York, having hope of the baby's complete restoration, 
though we were sad to leave her so feeble. We had no further 
drawbacks until fairly out to sea. Then the dreaded enemy of 
ocean travelers played his pranks upon us and kept us in our 
berths for quite a number of days. In spite of it, however, your 
grandpapa began to feel the benefit of the rest, and though he did 
not gain much in the brief trip across the water, he improved daily 
and quite rapidly after reaching Europe, I am sure he would have 
improved much faster if he could have been persuaded to throw 
every thought of his journal to the winds and care only for himself. 
That he was not able to do; his mind was on the alert for every 
possible material which might be utilized for his paper. During 
this trip of about three months he wrote no less than twenty-four 
letters to the Congregationalist, beside various fugitive articles and 
special editorials ; occasionally something would find its way to 
some other periodical. 

Six weeks we waited for home news, and great was our joy 
when at last the letter reached us telling of the improvement of 
our sick one and the health of the rest of the dear friends. We 
traveled rapidly and saw a great deal, though not with the thor- 
oughness that is desirable for real study. On our return your 
grandpapa found himself wonderfully restored, and had no dif- 
ficulty in making use of all his "Notes by the Way." 

To give you some idea of his patient observance and care even 
for minor details I will inclose in this letter a schedule which he 
prepared, after getting home, of the distances he had traveled and 
the cost it involved. He did this at first because he thought he 
should like it for reference at some time in the future ; but in show- 
ing it to some of his friends he found they were quite desirous of 
keeping it. This prompted him to have several hundred copies 
of them printed, and they were so often called for that eventually 
they were all given away. As you look it over carefully you will 
probably smile a good many times at the thought of such a patient 
summing up. The schedule will give you a very good idea of the 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 



83 



extent of country we traveled over, the cities we visited, and the 
delightful side excursions which we took in. With your grand- 
papa's systematic way of doing work it was natural that his jour- 
ney should be thoroughly laid out before venturing forth ; and 
so it was up to the day of starting for home again. It is quite 
remarkable, too, that all the plan was carried out with the exception 
of two minor things in the line of castle visiting. I know you 
would be surprised if I should tell you how many people have 
asked for one of these schedules and have expressed gratitude for 
the help it has afforded them. Even as late as the present year 
I have had several calls for them, and greatly regretted that I had 
in my possession only one souvenir copy. 



Trip to Europe, March 17 — July 25, I869. 

C. A. Richardson and Wife were absent on their trip to 
Europe four months and five days, and traveled in all about 
12,300 miles, as follows : 



March 


17- 


" 


iS. 


" 20-31. 


April 


I. 


*' 


2. 


" 


IS- 


.< 


16. 


" 


17- 


"19- 


-20. 


" 


20. 


" 


21. 


May 


27. 
4- 


" 


5- 
8. 


*' 


10. 


" lO-II. 



Boston to Westfield ..... 

To New York 

Steamer Pereire to Havre, Hotel de l' Europe 
To Rouen, Hotel d'Angleterre 

" Paris, Hotel du Louvre, Hotel de Lath 
enee, and No. 9 Rue Castiglione . 

" Lyons, Hotel Collet 

" Marseilles, Hotel de Marseilles . 

" Nice, Hotel de Grand Bretagne 
Steamer to Genoa, Hotel de la Ville 
Steamer to Leghorn, Hotel du Nord 
To Rome, Hotel d'Angleterre . 

" Naples, Hotel de Russie 

" Rome, Hotel d'Angleterre . 

" Pisa, Hotel Victoria 

" Florence, Hotel Alliance 

" Milan, Hotel Cavour 

" Arona, Hotel de Italia 

" Sierra, by diligence, 22 1-2 hours over Sim 
plon Pass, Hotel Baur 

" Bouveret 



Miles. 
no 

132 

3,300 
50 

88 
316 
217 
141 
120 
no 
160 
162 
162 
172 

49 
210 

42 

130 

55 



Single 
Fare, in 
Specie. 

$3-55 

4-05 

85.00 

*2.00 
2.31 

8-53 
4-75 
*5-04 
6.40 
5.00 

5-75 
*6.9o 
*6.98 

*8.02 

1.46 

*9.2I 
1.20 

6.00 



The * indicates double fare. 



84 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 



1869. 



May 



12. 


By 


15- 


To 


17- 


" 


18. 


" 



June 



July 



24. 
24. 

25. 

26. 

27. 
28. 

29. 



18. 
19. 

25- 
24. 

25- 
26. 
29. 
3°- 



5-6 
6. 

7- 
9- 



steamer to Geneva, Madam Binfield's Pen 
SION 

Berne, Hotel Bellevue .... 

Interlaken via Lake Thun, Hotel Victoria 

Lucerne, via Lake Brienz, and through Brunig 
Pass, by private carriage. Hotel Schweiz 

ERHOF 

Zurich, Hotel Baur au Lac . 

Strasburgh, Hotel de Paris . 

Baden Baden, Hotel Victoria 

Heidelberg, Prince Charles . 

Frankfort, Hotel d'Angleterre 

Cologne, via Mayence and the Rhine, Hotel 

DU NORD 

Amsterdam, Brock's Doelen Hotel 
Leyden, Lion de Or .... 

Rotterdam, New^ Bath Hotel 
Antwerp, Hotel de l' Europe . 
Brussels, Hotel de l'Europe 

Ostend 

London, Mrs. Wood's, 75 Southampton Row 

Russell Square ..... 

Oxford, Roebuck Hotel 
To Stratford-upon-Avon, Red Horse 
Birmingham, Hen and Chickens Hotel 
Bangor, via Liverpool, Hotel Bellevue 
Liverpool, Hotel Victoria 
Manchester, Trevelyan Hotel 
Edinburgh, Cockburn's Hotel 
Stirling, Golden Lion 
Callander .... 
Trossachs, by carriage 
Loch Katrine 
Inversnaid 

Loch Lomond to Tarbet 
Oban, by coach, Caledonian Hotel 
Inverarnan, by coach 
On Loch Lomond 
Ballock to Glasgow, Waverly 
Belfast, Ireland 
Portrush, Colman's Hotel 
Londonderry, Hotel Imperial 
Dublin, Gresham Hotel 
Killarney, R. R. Hotel 



Hotel 





Single 


Vliles. 


Fare, in 




Specie. 


45 




102 


$2.41 


34 


.87 


46 


2.60 


30 


*i.30 


162 


4.12 


40 


.86 


57 


1.32 


54 


1. 14 


150 


2.44 


163 


3-90 


27 


.80 


23 


.64 


50 


2.05 


26 


•65 


80 


1-34 


136 


3.80 


60 


2.08 


40 


1-75 


20 


.80 


154 


6.75 


75 


2.25 


37 


1.56 


230 


6.62 


36 


*i.5o 


16 


•50 


ID 


.87 


8 


.62 


8 


.62 


3 


•30 


56 


6.12 


50 


5.00 


24 


•75 


20 


.62 


129 


2.89 


68 


*2.12 


40 


1.25 


209 


7-25 


186 


*8.S4 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 85 

Single 
iS6g. Miles. Fare, in 

Specie. 

July 10. To Cork, Imperial Hotel 67 *$2.i2 

" 12. " Queenstown, Queen's Hotel .... 6 *.25 

" 14-25. " Boston, by Steamer Siberia, Quincy House, 2,700 89.25 

SIDE EXCURSIONS. 

Miles. 
April 7-8. Paris to London, and return ($22.00), Charing Cross 

and Golden Cross 600 

" 7. Paris to Versailles 24 

" 22. Naples to Pompeii 24 

" 24. " to Vesuvius 24 

" 26. " to Baije and Pozzuoli 24 

May 14. Geneva to Fernet ........ 8 

" 17. From Interlaken to Lauterbrunnen and Staubbach Falls, 14 

" 19-20. Lucerne to the Righi Culmn 24 

" 27. Amsterdam to Brock 21 

" 31. Brussels to Waterloo 24 

June 5. London to Crystal Palace 20 

" 10. To Ascot Races 4° 

" 22. Birmingham to Bristol 220 

" 23. Bangor to Menai Bridge 6 

July 6. Portrush to Castle of Dunluce and Giants' Causeway, 8 

" 10. Killarney Lakes, Ross Castle, and Gap of Dunloe . 42 

Total distance 12,299 miles. 

By rail alone 4.858 miles. 

Cost of trip, exclusive of articles purchased, about $2,000 currency. 
Whole amount drawn on Letter of Credit, 8,417 francs, or $2,521.57, as 
paid in currency, when the drafts were presented at 15 Cornhill. 



86 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 8. 



LETTER No. 18. 



Just three weeks after coming home we were called to lay 
away the dear little babe, and I want to tell you how the comfort 
of Christ blessed us in all our journey and in the sadness of our 
home-coming. A most remarkable assurance that our child would 
be spared till we should return was vouchsafed to us, and the 
lesson of trust which we learned in that experience was never for- 
gotten. You may not be able to understand it if I tell you, but if 
you ever find that Christ does fill your heart to overflowing some 
day in the future of your life's experience, you will know what 
I mean when I say there was a consciousness of his immediate 
care and interest so great that his presence was continually recog- 
nized as holding us by the hand, as it were, while we felt a thrill 
of gladness in the watchfulness he was keeping over us, and our 
babe with us, in our forced separation. Not until we were near 
the time for sailing homeward did the new consciousness come 
to us that we must now hasten, for God was calling us to come to 
watch over her a few days before her departure to her beautiful 
home with himself. Then we pleaded for her life till we could 
once more lake her in our arms. We were comforted and our 
anxiety fled with an assured feeling that we should see her once 
more. Going from the station to the home where the precious 
life seemed only waiting for us we met the messenger on his way 
to the physician. I recognized him, and instinctively felt what 
his errand was without a word from him. 

We found her in spasms, taken ill that morning. She did 
not know us ; I cried to my Heavenly Father that we might have 
the joy of a last recognition from her baby eyes. God granted 
this boon, and in a day or two she seemed to rally and clung to me 
with manifest delight. But I knew she was going from us soon, 
and prayed yet again that she might be saved a long and suffer- 
ing illness such as I had been compelled to witness in my little 
ones who had died before. O, how good God was and how ten- 
derly he dealt with us! Could we ever deny his love? No, never! 
" Though he slay me yet will I trust him " was our hearts' accept- 
ance of his will. After this our little Mary Agnes clung to me 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l8. 87 

with her dear baby ways, and was enabled to laugh and play and 
let me enjoy her to my heart's content. Slowly but surely and 
without pain her strength left her, but not until three weeks after 
our landing on our native shore did the heavenly messenger come, 
when she left my arms for his. 

Children, do you think we murmured ? Ah, no ! our hearts 
were so full of gratitude that we could only see a tender Father's 
love through it all. Had he not walked with us every step of the 
way? Had he not spared the little one that I might go without 
question with your grandpapa to be a comfort to him ? And then 
had he not permitted me to enjoy her even as I had asked, 
in your grandpapa's absence, when it had seemed as if the tiny 
candle of her life had almost burned out? Had he not at the 
very last saved her from great suffering? I could only sing a 
song of thanksgiving for his mercy and love, so tender and so 
sparing. I almost regret having made this digression of our ex- 
perience in sorrow in the beginning of this letter, but some- 
how I feel as if I want you to know how closely Christ's love 
has been woven into all our life whether we were separated or 
together, that you may understand how he has been the one 
glad hope before us, and learn to know him as intimately that 
he may be your life also. 

Your grandpapa once more entered upon his newspaper work 
with fresh courage, with other thoughts of the outside world, and 
with enlarged ideas of things in general. It was by the benefit 
derived from this European trip that he was led to see the abso- 
lute necessity of longer vacations for himself and less push for his 
employees. He learned to be watchful for others ; he arranged for 
his own vacations with an interest he had not taken before ; and 
went from home and the strain of the office at every indication of 
brain weariness, which often came to remind him that too steady 
application would be suicide. In 1870 he took an extended jour- 
ney West in the interests of the paper and for recuperation. In 
December came the fatal tragedy of his brother's death. 

As into every life there come events of almost crushing weight, 
so into every home there come bitter experiences which the world 
cannot understand, though it may criticise and condemn without 
knowledge and unjustly. Each heart knows its own bitterness, 



88 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l8. 

and it also is acquainted with the principles and motives which 
have led perhaps to the misfortune, and, God be praised, one is 
thus made strong and able to stand by the right against any 
contempt or scorn of others. Try and remember this truth, will 
you not ? 

There were scenes in your grandpapa's life when none but 
God could read the deep heart-agonies he suffered, and it was then 
that his heroic nature stood forth with a calm and holy bearing. 
In some of these personal experiences it seemed to me that he 
was completely clothed with the glistening habiliments of right- 
eousness, and that I could almost recognize the seal that had been 
placed upon his brow by a divine hand. One such occasion which 
presses upon my mind, and which caused suffering beyond words 
to tell, was when this only brother was foully murdered and word 
flashed over the wires for him to " come at once," with the reason 
why he was wanted. For an instant he was overcome, but only 
for a little, when he possessed himself with a calmness not born 
of earth, and told me he must go and that I must help in this 
extremity by prayer; that he might be absent some days but that 
I should hear from him every day. He remained with this beloved 
brother until his life went out. He was placed under the most 
trying circumstances, amidst confused and disturbing statements 
that would have shaken the faith of many another less loyal heart. 
He believed in his brother, and knowing his kind and sympathetic 
nature he was willing to wait patiently for any explanations that 
should vindicate his true position. In this trying hour he gave 
his tenderest attention to her who was suffering from an anguish 
too exquisite to be touched by the most delicate breath, because 
he believed in her. He learned beside this sick bed the high 
place which his brother held in the hearts of thousands of the 
great and the good all through the land who loved him as a 
brother. When the flood of notes and inquiries and telegrams 
came pouring in from day to day, with their tender solicitude, their 
expressions of grief, their heartfelt sorrow, he was led to exclaim 
in the midst of it and with tears falling, "I shall never forget the 
power of sympathy ; " and the loved one whom he befriended in 
that bitter trial says, "Of his loyalty, courage, and generosity in 
all the great emergency through which he passed I cannot say too 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l8. 89 

much, nor can I hardly find words in which to express it." Your 
grandpapa expresses himself in his grief in the following, which 
I copy from an article in the paper : 

What can the tongue utter or the pen write under the crushing sorrow 
of laying in his last narrow home a brother loved and loving ; the young- 
est of the household ; the sharer of all the pastimes of boyhood ; the 
faithful and valued counselor of riper years ; the one for whom, of all 
the members of the family circle, the future seemed auspicious? The 
assassin's work was but too well done, and after a terrible struggle of 
almost seven long days and nights, first hopeful and then hopeless, 
Albert Dean Richardson breathed his last without a struggle, at the 
Astor House in New York, on Thursday morning, December 2, at five 
o'clock. Almost like a dream seem now the hours of watching and 
nursing night and day, the thronging of friends toward the sick room 
and their unbounded expressions of sympathy, the marriage tie sealed 
just on the edge of the spirit land, the last farewells, the supreme moment 
when the breath came and went no more, the funeral service in the pres- 
ence of personal friends, the desolate journey by night to the home of 
childhood, the fresh outburst of sorrow on meeting an aged mother and 
family friends, and the last funeral rites. All this seems verily like a 
dream, but, alas ! is a reality that cannot be reversed. 

Such sorrows cannot be written for the public eye ; but for 
you, my children, I refer to them as a part of the discipline that 
God saw to be best to aid in the softening and purifying influences 
that should so early prepare your grandpapa for his heavenly wel- 
come home. 



QO MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. IQ. 



LETTER No. 19. 

The event of his brother's death proved to be so great a tax 
upon your grandpapa's health that the year following he felt it 
best for him to bring new scenes into his life, and accordingly we 
took a delightful drive to the White Mountains in company with 
a warm friend and near neighbor. We each went in our private 
carriage until we reached Centre Harbor, where we spent a short 
time ; then, putting the two horses into a mountain wagon, we 
made the tour around the mountains, ascending Mt. Washington 
from the Glen House, the Congregationalist being informed of our 
progress and its interests in " Notes by the Way," wherein he 
expresses his own satisfaction with this mode of travel as follows : 

The ladies of our party persist in expressing the opinion that we 
went too many miles in seventeen days for the highest enjoyment ; but 
with that exception we are enthusiastic for carriage trips to the White 
Mountains. 

Your grandpapa abandoned himself to a real enjoyment of 
the journey, and then was the time when the geniality of his nature 
shone out. He could take the time to recreate. He made the 
effort as he grew older to throw ofif care when away from its pres- 
sure and to feel a certain freedom which he could never know 
while unfulfilled duties lay before him. One morning, on this 
drive, when we were not far from Suncook and were not quite sure 
of the road, our friend hailed a farmer whom we met and asked, 

" How far is it to Seekonk, sir? " 

" As fur again as half," replied the man gruffly. 

Such a curt answer greatly amused your grandpapa, yet he 
was surprised at the unusual incivility — a trait seldom met with 
in that region. Suddenly he burst into a merry laugh as the fact 
dawned upon him that our friend had inadvertently inquired for 
Seekonk, which was in Rhode Island, instead of Suncook, for which 
we were aiming. Of course this explained the discourtesy. The 
man thought the inquirer was making "game" of him. 

Enjoying this vacation so much your grandpapa planned for 
a longer one the next year, -and instead of two or three weeks' 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 19. 9I 

absence we were gone five months with our horses. It was natural 
that his thoughts should be more or less with his duties at the 
office, and he not only did much work for the paper, but was study- 
ing the country through which we traveled with the interest of a 
pupil at his books. He noticed every improvement in the villages 
through which we passed, inquired about the churches, the people, 
the prosperity, the religious condition, etc. If there was a Con- 
gregational minister in the place he never omitted to make him 
a call. 

It was in the early stage of this journey that he had an amus- 
ing experience, which he recounts as follows : 

Passing into a prayer meeting in a strange place not long since 
I was recognized by the brother in the chair, who, by some surprising 
miscalculation, it seems, had taken me for a minister ; for on commencing 
the services he remarked that the pastor was absent, but that Rev. 

Mr. from Boston was present and he hoped they should hear 

from him during the evening. Avoiding all personal allusions, I took 
part with the other brethren in sustaining the meeting; but in time I saw 
my mistake in not openly repudiating the ministerial function, for at the 
close of the meeting the leader, turning his eyes sharp on me, asked if 

the Rev. Mr. would pronounce the benediction. I asked to be 

excused; and none of my ministerial friends need feel jealous of their 
prerogatives lest I may hereafter attempt to palm myself off as one of 
"the cloth." If people will sometimes in addressing their letters prefix 
Dr. or Rev. to my name I cannot help it; but when it becomes a spoken 
prefix a plain layman like myself must rise and explain. 

[Don't fail to read your grandpapa's letters written while on 
these journeys, which you will find carefully preserved in his scrap- 
books. . They will give you something new on almost every sub- 
ject to be thought of, beside many experiences by the way.] 

While stopping at Sandwich for a week or two an incident 
occurred which came very near being a serious accident, and which 
leads to the following item in one of his letters : 

It is sometimes a great convenience to have your own team at hand 
ready for use, but it is not always so. You can't always hitch a horse to 
a tree and find everything in order after an hour's absence. A city horse 
does not always know how to behave. First, the animal must rub against 
the tree so hard as to take off the hair. Next, he is down for a roll on 



92 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I9. 

the earth and rocks, and the halter not being long enough he undertakes 
to stretch it, but it snaps, and Bucephalus is off for a frolic. I try to heed 
the old maxim " Never cross a bridge till you get to it;" but as I was 
going down to the West Ossipee depot the other morning I discovered 
a hole in a small bridge just too late to avoid it, and both hind legs of 
one horse went down as far as the size of the aperture would admit. 
The fall took the animal off her front legs also, and I saw no chance for 
her to get up without help, yet she sprang forward and in an instant was 
on four legs again and no bones broken, though with a bad wound on 
one of her knees which I have already charged to the town of Tamworth. 

One of these experiences to which he does not refer in his 
" Notes by the Way," and which occurred while at Sandwich, I will 
write you about. A large party of boarders went one afternoon 
for an excursion to Whiteface. We drove our own horses and 
carriage, while the rest of the company filled a large mountain 
wagon. On our way 'home we were to cross a bridge which was 
some twenty or more feet above one of the swift mountain streams 
spanning it, and was without protection on either side. The 
stream was rather low at the time, and the bed full of ugly, sharp 
rocks rising above the water. As we neared the bridge a farmer 
came toward us driving an unruly bull, having a board from three 
to four feet long fastened over his eyes. Your grandpapa drove 
very carefully, fearing the horses would see the creature and be 
frightened. Just as we were on the bridge they caught sight of 
him, and giving a sudden, simultaneous spring they wheeled partly 
around and, leaping forward, stood within less than a foot of the 
very edge. We expected to be dashed headlong upon the rocks 
below, but in an instant your grandpapa was out of the carriage 
and had seized the horse nearest the edge ; how he did it I never 
knew; I know that we were a frightened, silent party the remain- 
der of the ride home. 

We made various stops of two and three weeks at dififerent 
hotels during this trip, once at the Oak Hill House in Little- 
ton, New Hampshire, where we met a number of friends, one of 
whom has written as follows in her memories of your grandpapa : 

With what pleasure do I recall a vacation season passed in the 
White Mountains with himself and family! He had gone thither with 
his nice "turnout" to enjoy the delightful drives from place to place. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 19. '93 

It proved to be one of those summers when it "rains easy," and many 
pleasure trips were interfered with by heavy showers. The horses 
would be brought to the door when, seemingly without warning, the 
rain would fall in torrents. The horses would be taken back to the 
stable only to call forth a good-natured laugh from their owner that 
the weather was " so catching." The three weeks were passed with 
almost daily showers, but never was there a shadow of disappointment 
upon the face of the owner, Mr. Richardson. It was evident to all who 
saw him that he was pleased with God's way of doing things even 
though it was contrary to his own plans. 

I remember well the day near the close of Augtist when we 
left this pleasant spot. We had hoped to start early in the fore- 
noon, but as usual the clouds were very threatening and not until 
four o'clock in the afternoon could we decide whether to go or 
stay. After leaving Littleton we drove a distance of one hundred 
and forty miles before we made another permanent stop ; one 
hundred and twenty miles of this distance was down the Connec- 
ticut Valley, of which your grandpapa says : 

This was probably through as fine a region for a carriage trip as 
can be found in the country. In delightful contrast with the highways 
in the White Mountain region the roads are smooth and comparatively 
level, and they are arched over by trees from time to time for a long 
distance through the woods, while the scenery as a whole is charmingly 
beautiful. Nearly every town has its bridge across the Connecticut and 
some of them two. 

It was while on this drive that we made a visit to the old 
town of such pleasant memories to your grandpapa. We were 
tarrying for a couple of weeks at Mt. Mineral Springs, and one day 
took a ride of ten miles over to Montague, where, your grandpapa 
says, 

some of the happiest hours of my life were spent as a school-teacher. 
I went there fresh from the normal school in Westfield, when youthful 
enthusiasm doubtless did much to make good any lack of maturer judg- 
ment. I had some excellent material to work with ; the schools had a 
good name, perhaps beyond what they deserved, and many warm friend- 
ships were formed. But for twenty-one years I had not seen the place, 
and I had quite an unusual interest as well as curiosity to look once more 
upon the faces of that community. 



94 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 19. 

Across the way stood the old schoolhouse looking precisely as it did 
twenty-one years ago. What memories it recalled ! How many battles 
with Colburn and Greenleaf, Euclid and Greene, Cutter and Day, An- 
drews, and other text-book worthies had been fought within its walls ! 
It is pleasant now to recall the fact that during the two years of my reign 
there not a blow was found necessary to secure study or enforce order. 
As to the change wrought upon the face and in the personal appearance 
of the old pupils and myself by a score of years, I found in most cases 
that we readily recognized each other. It is pleasant to be remembered, 
and I can scarcely recall a day that has afforded me more satisfaction 
than this. And yet there was a melancholy side, for a great multitude 
had gone to join the assembly of the dead. 

Of these " Notes by the Way " your grandpapa said : 

They have grown out of the observations made during a vacation of 
five months, taken with the hope of regaining health seriously impaired 
by too close confinement to office work in years past. And now, grate- 
ful to a kind Providence for a safe return from a carriage trip of nearly 
eight hundred miles, I am glad to resume work once more, believing 
that work is vastly better in its proper place for all who can endure it 
than all excursions and vacations. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 95 



LETTER No. 20. 

As your grandpapa found much physical and mental invigora- 
tion from these outings, at the same time gathering material for 
future use and contributing to the weekly columns while absent, 
he made such plans as he could for yearly travel. When engaged 
in his weekly routine of duties he never was able to get the time 
for reading that he needed in order to do the best work, and con- 
cluded there was no better school in which he could broaden his 
horizon of thought than in frequent journeyings. Thus while his 
chosen profession involved close attention and often great weari- 
ness it was not without its compensations. Every trial has its 
comfort, so every labor has its reward. Attendance upon the 
different convocations of religious interests, though wearisome, 
gave him the opportunity to see new cities and towns, to meet new 
people, to observe new customs, and to study the country which 
might be strange to him. 

In 1874 he went to California via the Isthmus of Panama in 
company with his intimate friend, Mr. Charles Hutchins, agent of 
the American Board of Foreign Missions, and during this trip his 
pen was not idle, for I count not less than nineteen letters printed 
in the columns of the Congregational/st, beside various articles and 
communications to other journals. He visited the Yosemite Valley, 
some of the mining regions, Salt Lake City, and climbed Pike's 
Peak. But I will not write you at length of the several journeys 
that have enriched his life and given him enjoyment as well as 
added buoyancy to his spirits and strength to his system. I shall 
only refer to a few. 

He made four carriage trips to the White Mountains, vary- 
ing the route each time, sometimes enjoying the valley of the 
Connecticut River for many miles, at others the isolation of the 
country drives. At one time Sebago Lake and the State of Maine 
received his attention via Bridgeton and the lakes of that region, 
yet not returning without the circuit of the mountains as far as 
could be made accessible. Two other carriage rides were through 
Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. At another time a 
trip to Rangeley Lakes afforded him great enjoyment and recu- 



g6 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 

peration. Part of one winter was spent on the Bermuda Islands 
with profit and pleasure. Three more were made happy in Florida, 
two of them being passed on Fort George Island and one at Winter 
Park. He made a special effort, while South, to visit several 
schools of the American Missionary Association, inquiring into its 
work and here and there advocating its interests. How full of 
brightness these vacations were ! He seemed to renew his youth- 
ful days of courage and enjoyment, and was full of brightness. 
Rest with him, however, was not idleness. Each day had its 
special task, even his pleasure was enhanced by allotted hours for 
reading, for walking or riding, and for conversation. All the min- 
utes were delightfully filled, but there was no hurry, no crowding. 
We were scarcely separated for an hour during these vacations ; 
everything was shared with one another. " How sweet their 
memory still ;" how full of fragrance now ! 

I believe his frequent visits to Saratoga prolonged his life, and 
I know that new inspiration was gained when these visits were ex- 
tended to Niagara Falls, as they often were. 

It was during his absence on a trip to Nova Scotia that I 
thought to plan a pleasant surprise for him the coming Christ- 
mas. I had often heard him say when speaking of different 
contributors to the paper: "I should like to see such and such 
a man's face ; I have some curiosity to know if the face marks 
the man." 

I remembered this remark, and when he was fairly away it 
occurred to me that it would be a capital idea to secure without 
his knowledge an album containing a goodly number of the con- 
tributors to his paper and surprise him with it at Christmas. Then 
came the query how to carry the plan into effect unbeknown to 
him Finally, I called on Miss Ellen M. Stone, who was then an 
assistant editor in the office, and asked her if she would copy for 
me a list of the names of the past and present contributors. 
When I told her my secret she entered into the project eagerly, 
and sent me about three hundred names. I immediately struck 
off a circular letter stating what I desired and that the affair was 
to be kept inviolate for the holidays. 

Getting your Aunt Hattie to help me we wrote and mailed 
about two hundred and fifty letters, inclosing envelopes addressed 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 97 

and stamped for return of the carte de visite; few cabinet photo- 
graphs were then taken. These letters were all directed to the 
house of a friend, with her understanding of the affair, and privately 
passed to me. Even this was not so secret, however, but that I 
came very near being found out one evening when your grandpapa 
called to see the gentleman of the house, and one of the sons had 
just brought home from the post office two or three letters ad- 
dressed to me and gave them to him, the son being wholly igno- 
rant of the ruse. I passed it off as possibly being from some one 
who did not know our place of residence but did know that of our 
friend. I had thought that if I could obtain a considerable number 
before New Year's I should not hesitate to present the gift, and 
he would be as pleased to receive the remainder of them him- 
self afterward if they should come in. What was my surprise to 
find that in less than three weeks I had obtained many more than 
a hundred ! I was obliged to buy two large albums instead of 
one, and at Christmas they contained a hundred and fifty pic- 
tures. I think I enjoyed the personal letters that were sent with 
the pictures quite as much as your grandpapa did the pictures 
themselves. Some of them were very funny. I remember one 
man who referred particularly to his personal beauty (he was an 
exceptionally homely man) as being an ornament among so honor- 
able a crowd, and closed by saying that his photograph must have 
been sent for because of his good behavior, as his mother had 
always taught him that " Handsome is that handsome does." 
Another thought the album would make a fine menagerie with so 
unique a collection of animals. He did not know just what to 
give himself for a name. All seemed to enter into my scheme with 
enjoyment and fidelity to the secret. 

My hopes were high for my surprise, but alas for human 
hopes ! As you boys would say, " I got left." When the albums 
were given no amount of effort at pretended surprise on your 
grandpapa's part could deceive me. I saw at once that some one 
had betrayed me. He had been told of the coming gift, not through 
forgetfulness, not by mistake, but 1 believe maliciously. It is a 
hard thing to say, but I can see it in no other light, for the noted 
doctor of divinity met him at a conference and asked him if he 
had received his present yet. Your grandpapa smiled and said he 
was aware of no present, thinking that the man was joking, when 



98 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 0. 

he added, " Well, you are going to have one, for I had a letter 
from your wife, and as I hadn't any picture and couldn't send her 
one I suppose I ought to have written, but you'll please tell her." 
Then there was one other little episode. I said all seemed to 
enter into my plan with zest. I had forgotten one letter which 
I received from a well-known president of a college, giving me 
quite a severe reprimand for undertaking such a thing, and say- 
ing in a most decided manner that he should send no picture 
of his to any one for such a purpose. With this one exception 
the letters were very delightful reading for many a spare minute 
of your grandpapa's. But the albums ! How can I tell you 
the delight they afforded him for scores and scores of even- 
ings, with his friends of brain and pen ? They were always 
brought out to entertain ministers, professors, authors, and others 
who visited us, and were the source of many an anecdote and 
pleasant conversation, especially when a visitor found the picture 
of a classmate or a personal friend among them. It gave him 
more real pleasure the last years of his life than almost any one 
thing beside, and he added many new contributors to the original 
collection. I think the president who felt that I was doing such 
a wicked thing at the time would conclude that he had made a 
mistake in his judgment if he knew of the result. But the good 
man is in glory now, and I have no doubt that there has been a 
pleasant understanding between them ere this. 

In 1880 he went a second time to Europe, having with him 
your Aunt Alice, to attend the great Sabbath-School Centenary in 
London, and also being accompanied by their mutual friends Mr. 
Hutchins, Miss Farley, and Miss Dyer, the last of whom has ever 
since their return been a valued associate editor of the paper and 
of late years the special editor of the Home Department. He was 
absent some three months, attending meanwhile the Passion Play 
at Ober-Ammergau, visiting the missionary station at Prague — 
meeting there Miss Stone, who was connected with the Congrega- 
tionalist for eleven years before going as a missionary — beside do- 
ing some traveling among the Alps. He also made a second trip 
to California in 1882, extending it to Portland, Oregon, visiting there 
the Indian school and looking up with great interest its history. 

The following year brought to him a keen sorrow in the tragic 
death of his lifelong friend, Mr. Hutchins. They had been to- 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 99 

gether on a brief visit to Saratoga. Mr. Hutchins returned a little 
before him, and when your grandpapa a day or two later stepped 
into the office of the Missionary Herald to greet his friend how 
great was his astonishment to learn of the accident which had 
occurred that morning, and had stricken down in an instant the 
one from whom he had so recently parted, and whom he loved so 
well ; while crossing a track in the Boston and Lowell station 
Mr. Hutchins was struck by a backing engine which he had not 
seen. In writing of this sad return your grandpapa says : 

On opening the door of the Missionary Herald office I am startled 
and almost bewildered at first on learning of his sudden death. He 
had been a lifelong friend. We have journeyed together to California 
and across the water • have been associated together in various trips 
and in many other ways ; but we never had a short vacation together 
that has been more satisfactory than this one. In our devotions from 
day to day, both in the reading of God's Word and in prayer, he has 
seemed to me more than ever like a man who " walked with God," and 
one whom the prospect of death, even, could not alarm. 

This brief outline of your grandpapa's travels is enough to 
show you that observation was largely his teacher when he found 
that books and college were out of the question. Everywhere he 
went he met reliable people of whom to obtain the information 
needed on matters he wished to know about. Perhaps this contact 
with so many different minds and temperaments was what enabled 
him to think on the varied topics which during these busy years were 
presented in editorials to his subscribers. I should like to have 
you glance over a partial list of the articles he wrote for those 
columns, some longer and some shorter. It has been a great sat- 
isfaction to me : 

ARTICLES AS EDITORIALS. 

A Successful Lecture Course. Letter from Boston referring to the 

Normal Schools in Connecticut. New Congregational House on 

Work to be Done Now. Chauncy Street, which could only 

Granite State in Summer. accommodate the Congregational 

Strikes in 1868. Library, the Home Missionary 

Deer Island. Society, and the Congregational 

Perfect your Manuscript. Board of Publication, and where 

Labor Reform. the Congregational clergy held 

Missionary Ship. their meetings. The matter was 

Literary Critic. discussed of starting a new paper 

Anniversary Week of 1857. at the time. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 



A Useful Ministry. 

Pacific Steamship Co. 

Our Feeble Churches. 

The Jury. 

Another Outlet for Boston. 

Eastern Railroad. 

Boston Clearing House. 

A Work for the Ministry. 

A Sunny Side View. 

Letter from Philadelphia. 

Letters from New York. 

Railroads in Massachusetts. 

Ministers and Churches. 

The Centennial. 

Hippodrome Meetings. 

The Election. 

Letter from Chicago after the Great 

Fire. 
New York Aquarium. 
Sunday- School Work. 
Christian Endeavor Societies. 
Franklin House in Saratoga. 
Anecdotes of Charles Hutchins. 
Moribund Churches. 
Dr. Meredith's Class. 
Dansville Sanatorium. 
Consolidated Missionary Magazines. 
Reaction in Japan. 
Enforcement of .Sunday Laws. 
Bishop Leland's Address. 
Stanley and Bartelott. 
Facts to be remembered regarding 

Riots, Introduction of Machinery, 

and Habits of Extravagance. 
Teachers in Schools. 
Normal Schools. 

On Giving and Methods of the Same. 
A. B. C. F. M. and its Reports. 
Troubles in Churches. 
A. M. A. and its Reports. 
Preparatory Lectures. 
Funeral Scene. 

Uniformity in Railroad Mail Service. 
Absent Members of the Church. 
Courses of Lectures as Friendly Allies 

to Church and Parish Work. 
Wanted — Heroism. 



Churches and Lecture Courses with 
.Suggestions. 

Pay that Thou Ovvest. 

Lancaster Industrial School. 

Boston Clearing House. 

Green liackers. 

The Ministry. 

Candidating. 

English Protectorate in Turkey. 

A. B. C. F. M. 

The Silver Dollar. 

That Gridiron ; or, .Serious Charge on 
Dr. Edwards' Belief. 

Looking for a Pastor. 

The Public Documents of Massachu- 
setts, including Researches on Ed- 
ucation and Charities and Labor. 

Compulsory Education. 

Our Missionaries in Austria. 

Suffrage. 

Sunday- School Lesson. 

Organization in Churches. 

Story of Tyre. 

Church Building. 

The Ocean Telegram. 

Camping Out. 

Gettmg a Minister. 

Sabbath School. 

A Congregationalist Catechism. 

Vacations. 

Municipal Debts. 

The Religious Newspaper. 

A Woman's Home Missionary Society. 

The Quincy School. 

Railroads. 

Congregational Publishing .Society. 

How Elections are carried on. 

Negro Preaching. 

A Sunday in New York. 

Robert Raikes. 

Women's Missionary Societies. 

The London Centenary. 

Ober-Ammergau and its Passion Play. 
Special Notes on a Foreign Trip. 
Prague and Bohemia. 
Kimballized. 

That Door. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20, 



lOl 



Congregational Publishing Society. 

Bird's- Eye View of Congregational 
Council. 

A Remarkable Story of the Facilities 
of Dakota. 

The Week of Prayer. 

The Congregational Club. 

The Pulpit of Dr. Emmons. 

The Pastor and the Sunday School. 

Dr. Kimball and Church Debts. 

The Missionary Concert. 

The Lighter Drinks. 

Three Stages in Missions. 

Absent Members. 

The Chicago Meeting. 

Home Missions Now. 

Sunday-School Work. 

The Oregon Indian School. 

Utah and the Mormons. 

Light in Austria. 

Responsible Insanity. 

The Real Difficulty — referring to min- 
isters choosing their places of 
labor. 

The Seven Societies. 

Unanimous or Not. 

Reminiscences of A. B. C. F. M. 

Atlantic Cable. 

He was Looking About. 

American Baptist Missionary Union. 

Light which may need 1863 to under- 
stand why certain things are or 
are not published in the Religious 
Newspapers. 

Sunday School. 

Things to be Remembered Concern- 
ing Newspapers. 

Wild Lands of Long Island. 

Pray for the Country. 



A Dark Day, July 22, 1S61. 

Caste in Sunday School. 

Mason and Slidell Affair. 

Ourselves and Other Congregational 
Papers. 

Talk with Our Contributors. 

Public Documents. 

As Our Neighbors See Us. 

Various Reports for Committees. 

Evolution of the Sunday School. 

Old Anniversary Week, found in the 
Last Volume of his Scrapbooks. 

Church Work. 

Completing Subjects in Sermons. 

How Shall We Give. 

An Evil and a Caution. 

Christian Endeavor Societies. 

Historical and Descriptive Article on 
Chelsea. 

News from Utah. 

The Present Outlook. 

Charleston. 

Sabbath Sermons. 

Henry M. Kellog, a Former Pupil 
Killed in the Army. 

Newspapers vs. Personal Favors. 

Read the Eighty- Eighth Psalm. 

Don't Give it Up ! — referring to prohi- 
bition in council. 

Congregationalist Enlarged and in 
New Type. 

A Step Forward. 

Willing. 

The Long Evening. 

Railroad Improvements. 

North Conway in Early Autumn. 

Olden Time, from your Grandfather. 

Prayer Meeting on Fulton Street. 

Bought the Recorder. 



This may seem to you like a long list, yet it is only a part, 
and I may almost say there were hundreds of editorial para- 
graphs beside on every conceivable subject that comes before 
a community. You will remember, however, that he was con- 
nected with this journal for thirty-five years and it was his daily 
work all that time. It was his love, his life, his care. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21. 



LETTER No. 21. 



I HAVE written you a good deal on the various phases of your 
grandpapa's life, as a pupil, a journalist, and a Christian, but I have 
not dwelt particularly on his life at home. It will take you into 
a deeper sympathy with him if I write at some length upon the 
spirit which influenced and molded our household. 

As he did not favor secret societies he had no calls of that 
sort to take him away in the evening. When he did go out it was 
generally in connection with church work, or such gatherings as 
were for the improvement of public affairs, or during some politi- 
cal campaign attending a caucus now and then where he felt that 
his presence ought to be known. 

I think I told you that we went to Chelsea to live when your 
mamma was a wee babe. This was when your grandpapa began 
his business career at the bookstore of J. P. Jewett. We were 
obliged to commence housekeeping in a very small way, because 
the little we had saved previously was spent in our living while he 
was learning his business at the store when he had expected that 
would be his future employment. We furnished our rooms slowly, 
getting a few things at a time as we were able. After a while, how- 
ever, we found ourselves comfortably settled as to furniture, though 
we were in a high brick house where the rooms were stretched 
over four stories and divided with another family — a kitchen in 
the basement, the parlor on the next floor, while on the floor above 
we had three rooms; the other family divided in the same manner 
except that they took the three rooms together on the upper floor. 
I tried to manage for a time with my little family without help, ex- 
cept for washing and ironing ; but I found it pretty wearing to have 
a kitchen in the basement and sitting and sleeping room on the 
third floor, compelling me several times in a day to go up over two 
flights of stairs. So during the winter we made things as easy 
and comfortable as we could, and as your grandpapa did not come 
home to his dinner we lived mostly upstairs, using the pleasant 
front room for a sitting room and at night bringing in the bed 
from the cold room and making it up on the floor. This was on 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21. IO3 

account of the baby, lest she should take cold in the room with 
no fire. There was no furnace in the house. 

I must tell you right here of an amusing experience that we 
had while living this way. I kept a good many eatables in the 
little hall room next to our sitting room in order to save me the 
long journey downstairs. In one corner was a bucket of Indian 
meal, on the top of which was a plate with a good-sized piece of 
fat salt pork in it covered with a tin basin ; near by was a pack- 
age of dried herrings, beside other things that could not be so 
easily disturbed. I speak of these in particular because they 
enter largely into my story. At the further end of the small room 
was a bureau, in which I kept various articles of clothing, espe- 
cially in the bottom drawer where were two or three shawls folded. 
On the night in question about midnight I was awakened by a 
strange noise on the stairs. I listened, and could distinctly hear 
footsteps, as I thought, going over them ; I could also hear some 
one at work in the small room. I was quite disturbed, though 
I knew that our own door was fastened. I bore the anxiety as 
long as I dared, then woke your grandpapa and told him I was 
sure there were rogues in the house. He listened for awhile, 
but at last yielding to his weariness and the assurance he had in 
the feeling of "blessed be nothing" quietly remarked, "Well, let 
them have what they can find, I am sure there is not enough for 
us to lose to pay for the trouble of getting up ! " then turned and 
tried to go to sleep again. I continued to hear the hurrying and 
scurrying over the stairs for a long time, till at last it dawned 
upon me that possibly the cellar door had been accidentally left 
open and that there were rats in the house. I had been told that 
huge wharf rats did sometimes go from one house to another in 
companies. The more I listened the more I became convinced 
that the rodents were the marauders, and went to sleep again quite 
content. The next morning the truth was revealed to some extent. 
The paper of herrings which I had bought for breakfast as a nice 
relish was nowhere to be found, not even a bone was to be seen. 
The pork had disappeared also. The plate was on the floor and 
the cover removed from the bucket of meal though partially 
drawn over it. The meal being brought to a pyramidal form led 
me to make a search into its depths, where I found the pork nicely 



I04 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 1. 

buried, not having been gnawed at all ; finding this, I looked for 
the herrings, but they did not appear until a week later when 
I went to take out my shawl and in it found the ten folded away 
with great care for their and not our winter use. The rats dis- 
appeared as quickly as they came, but they gave me a scare and 
proved their wonderful instincts for thrift. It was not necessary 
to tell you this whole story to show you the wise and ready decision 
of your grandpapa, but I was sure you would enjoy reading a true 
rat story. 

I need not describe to you your grandpapa's looks or benig- 
nant expression of face. You knew him as he was, and when you 
call to mind the deep furrows that marked his forehead, making 
him look as if he were stern and severe sometimes, you will remem- 
ber that he was tender in spirit, most considerate and thoughtful 
for others; that he was cheerful and full of good humor and greatly 
pleased with the amusing developments of his grandchildren. He 
seldom commented on them himself, for he was always reticent 
about family matters ; but how many times I have heard his happy 
laugh ring out when listening to the recitals of some of your child- 
ish antics ! Those deep furrows in his forehead were caused by 
the too anxious care he bestowed on everything that he undertook 
to do. It was unfortunate, I acknowledge, because it misrepre- 
sented him to the outside world. People did not distinguish 
a look of anxiety from one of severity. 

We were greatly amused at our dinner table one day when 
Miss Higgins, then a member of our household, extended to me the 
sympathy of a lady whom she had met that day and who expressed 
much pity for me for having so stern and almost tyrannical a hus- 
band that she was sure I could not act naturally in his presence 
and must feel crushed and helpless — she had judged him from 
this anxious look. You can well understand the merry shout that 
went up from all who were at the table at your grandpapa's 
expense, he joining with the rest. The exact opposite was so true 
that it was really very funny to receive such sympathy. 

Grandpapa always made the best of everything. If a matter 
could not be helped he tried to pass it by and bury it ; if it could 
be helped he set himself to work to cure it as soon as possible ; 
and our good neighbor who was with us on our carriage trip at 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21. 105 

one time says : " There was a cheerfulness about him though not 
playfulness [can you understand the difference?], and the more 
I became acquainted with him the more I appreciated the warmth 
of his love for his family, his friends, and his church ; and I want 
you to be sure and impress upon his grandchildren that while he 
was a sober-minded man he was a cheerful man, one whom his 
neighbors and fellow citizens were glad to have say ' Good morn- 
ing' to them at the station. Neither was he slow to enjoy a joke 
or a little fun, as you will remember how, when I attempted to 
settle one of my bills by shaking hands and wishing our host 
a prosperous season, he burst into a right good laugh of enjoy- 
ment. This good nature must have been well developed in his 
office work, v^^here I once heard him receive and laugh off a terrific 
explosion which came from a disturbed doctor of divinity. What 
the text of the divine was I do not know, but I quite enjoyed his 
being laughed out of court. This vein of good humor we all 
appreciated." 

In a previous letter I have referred to Miss Ellen Stone, who 
was associated with your grandpapa on the paper for eleven years 
and who eventually resigned her position to go as a missionary to 
Bulgaria under the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign 
Missions. At the same time Miss Susan B. Higgins was accepted to 
go to Japan under the Methodist Board. This fact brought into our 
home a fresh and more stirring missionary zeal, though we had 
always held the subject of missions as a great stimulus in gospel 
work and often expressed a wish for a more immediate relation 
with foreign labors. But we could not realize that it would be 
like applying a fresh torch to an inflammable material to send one 
from our own family until these two went forth — one from the 
office, where she had labored at your grandpapa's side daily ; and 
the other who had been in the family as one of its loved mem- 
bers for nearly nine years. It brought occasion for advice sought 
and given ; missionary meetings were held here and there in which 
we were personally interested; the missionary spirit was kindled 
anew in every fiber and branch, I copy a report of one of the 
meetings, which I find in a local paper, for you to read : 

. . . The occasion was one of peculiar interest from the fact tliat 
Miss Susan B. Higgins, a schoolmate of Miss Stone, who has been 



I06 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21, 

a teacher in the public schools of Chelsea for several years, now goes to 
fapan under the Methodist Board. Farewell services for her had been 
held in the Walnut Street Methodist Church, many who attended the 
two services being mutual friends of Miss Stone and Miss Higgins. At 
each of the meetings the outgoing missionaries said a few farewell 
words. On the platform at this meeting in presence of the audience 
they gave each other the right hand in token of consecration to the mis- 
sion work. 

This new flame of love for foreign work did not die out when 
these missionaries had departed ; your grandpapa's prayers in- 
creased in earnestness for those of us who remained at home that 
we might have a more fervent love for Christ and the souls of our 
fellow creatures. The thoughts centered on the absent ones were 
deep and grateful. For eight months we were the recipients of 
good and mostly hopeful news from them, but one Saturday morn- 
ing there came a letter from Miss Higgins to your Aunt Hattie 
written in pencil. It was only a few words saying, " I am ordered 
home on the next steamer, I cannot write. Read Second Epistle 
of John, twelfth verse," This was news indeed, and we could only 
understand that there was something very serious back of it. The 
evening of that same day we were startled by a telegram sent 
from her brother. It came the evening of the Fourth of July and 
was addressed to your Aunt Hattie M, Goodrich, She could not 
open it, so great was her apprehension of evil tidings. I broke the 
seal and read, " Sue has gone home." This was enough. It brought 
a shock such as Aunt Hattie had never experienced and such as no 
other death could inflict on her. Had not they two been com- 
panions and roommates for nearly a dozen years? And between 
them there had grown to be a love like that of David and Jon- 
athan. Their first separation had been like the tearing asunder 
of two hearts, though God had blessed it to a beautiful consecra- 
tion of both lives — one in a foreign land and the other anew to 
Christ in her daily toils here as a teacher, where her influence was 
widened and deepened. But this second separation — who can 
express in words its deep wounding ? She has described it since 
by saying, " It seemed as if my own life had gone out." 

The cablegram to the brother had come eighteen thousand 
miles from Japan, through Northern Siberia and Russia and across 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21. I07 

England and the Atlantic, to bring this heavy and unwelcome 
tidings : " Susan died peacefully at Tokio ; buried Friday." Thus 
a life dear to many hearts had gone out as it were in a moment, 
which for nearly nine years and until a few months previous had 
been a blessing in our family, a leading spirit at home among her 
own relatives, and a joy to her associates. 

Now these two loving spirits are again united. Since I began 
these letters to you some of you have looked upon the sweet and 
peaceful face of your Aunt Hattie as she lay in her casket. Can 
we not think of the three, grandpapa and Aunt Hattie and Miss 
Higgins, as mingling their voices in the glorious anthems of praise 
around God's throne ? 

I have previously referred to the great respect that your 
grandpapa had for the opinion of people older than himself, and 
I may add also for all other people, for he was always deferential 
in his manner. He gave great heed to the advice of his parents, 
especially to his mother, to whom he never hesitated to tell his 
anxieties if she cared to know them — and what mother does not? 
And when the great sorrow of her life came to her and his father 
was laid away from her sight, his heart, his arms, his home, all, 
were opened to receive her. She did not come to us, however, 
till many years later; she was happier to remain among the 
people who had been her friends and neighbors so many years. 
But when first the sister and afterward a brother, with each of 
whom she had lived, died, and she had outlived most of her early 
friends, she came to Chelsea to us. Do you not remember her 
well as she used to sit at the window in her sunny room with the 
white cap about her sweet, pale countenance and seeming to lend 
a halo to her spiritual face even though the poor eyes were nearly 
sightless ? How she loved to have you little ones come in to see 
her when you visited us ! Your grandpapa was devoted to his 
mother's wants, and nothing that he could do for her was left 
undone. No matter how weary he might be on Sunday, after the 
Sunday-school duties were ended he usually spent from one to 
two hours in reading aloud to her or in conversation with her. 
The readings she would have him select from the Bible, the hymn 
book, the Congregationalist, missionary magazines, etc. She had 
a sort of reverence for the Congregationalist, and wanted no part 
omitted. 



I08 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 1. 

Your grandpapa placed such dependence upon prayer that he 
made one feel it was indeed his vital breath and never could be 
omitted any morning from the family altar with his loved ones 
gathered around him, and each member knew that to be absent 
from prayers in the morning caused him grief and sorrow. Occa- 
sionally there would be some demurring by the younger members 
of the family at this persistent regularity ; but it made no difference, 
it was a law of the household, and I believe those fervent prayers 
have saved many a harsh and bitter word that might otherwise 
have been spoken. A family cannot be carried daily to the throne 
of grace and placed in the Everlasting Arms for guidance in their 
study, their play, their entire hopes, and be wholly unmindful of 
it. So I am sure that our home was made far happier from the 
enforcing of this rule as of highest importance. 

Sunday evening was usually devoted to the most tender ap- 
peals for each member of the family and for any friend or chance 
visitor who might be providentially with us, and who was remem- 
bered in the same manner. One guest remarked to me after one 
of these prayers, " It seems like holy ground ; when he prays he 
makes me share, too, in the family blessing." How those devo- 
tional hours have often impressed me ! His soul was as if aglow 
with the satisfaction he felt in placing us all in God's hands ; and, 
my dear children, though you were not present in person, you were 
never forgotten in those Sabbath evening prayers ; a fervent cry 
for each of you was sent up that you should be counted among 
those who walk in the ways of righteousness. He prayed not only 
for your childhood years but for your future ; and O, how many 
times he has consecrated you with your dear parents to the tender 
love of your Heavenly Father ! 

It is a precious memory in all my life spent with your grand- 
papa that we had one leading thought which made all things else 
subservient to its demand, viz., to live according to the precepts 
of the Bible and to promote as far as we knew how the glory of 
God. 

Though our dispositions, our temperaments, our tastes, our 
likes and dislikes were quite opposite, our single aim of striving to 
be Christ-like brought all other traits into such harmony that we 
were one in spirit, and it is a sweet satisfaction to my lonely heart 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 1. I09 

when I call to mind the many instances of the expression in action 
of that unit^^ It was a common saying among our children when 
they were the age that some of you are now and came to me with 
requests which I had doubts about the propriety of granting and 
would say to them, " Go and ask papa, and if he thinks it best I 
will consent," " O, that's no good, for he always thinks just as 
you do. You always think alike about everything ! " 

It was the same if they went to your grandpapa first — " What 
does mamma think about it?" Sometimes a private conference 
was necessary, and then the children were sure to say, " O, you've 
been talking it all over, and of course you are agreed about it." 

No words can express to you, dear children, the sweetness of 
such a memory. We both came to recognize when near the end 
of our journey together the varied molding influences each had 
had upon the other. It was but a short time before that fatal ill- 
ness when one day grandpapa seemed somewhat under that inher- 
ited cloud of depression and expressed words of deep discourage- 
ment on some matters near his heart. I asked him if God had 
departed from his heaven and left him without hope, and added : 
"I think matters are really brighter than they were, and I am sure 
you have greater reason to be glad and rejoice than you have for 
despondency. Don't you think so, on the whole ? " 

He smiled as he took up his coat to go, saying : " Well, I am 
ashamed ! I have no business to be desponding. I don't mean 
to allow such moods to get possession of me. I've struggled hard 
all my life to overcome them, and I think I have a good deal, 
don't you? I know it is wrong, and I don't mean they shall hold 
me at all." Then he said '*Good-by," with the brightness of that 
determination. 

While there were many very pleasant things which came into 
your grandpapa's home life of which I want to tell you, I find 
there is one great drawback about it — I cannot always separate 
entirely my own share in them. I want my letters to be so entirely 
of him that I shrink from any intrusion, and yet as his life was 
so woven with mine what else can I do ? I must acknowledge a 
bit of satisfaction, too, in having been able to bring some share of 
happiness into his busy hours ; so while you read the particularly 
pleasant things you may confine them as much as possible to 
thoughts of him. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 2. 



LETTER No. 22. 



I HAVE told you something of your grandpapa's religious life, 
which was the leading feature of all his being. This, however, did 
not shut him out from all social life, for he meant to be a faithful 
citizen as well as a true Christian. He identified himself with all 
the best interests of the city where he lived as one loyal to its pros- 
perity. While not dealing in politics as a politician he neverthe- 
less gave them such attention as to insure what to him appeared to 
be the right side of every important question. I think he never 
failed to cast his vote on State, county, or municipal issues no 
matter where he was, and he usually felt that he ought to attend 
such caucuses as would give him the best side of the matter under 
debate. Though he did not feel a love for political life he did not 
refuse such positions as were conferred upon him by his fellow 
citizens without effort of his own. Several times he was elected as 
delegate to the State convention. He filled the position of mem- 
ber of the school board for a number of years and was associated 
with B. P. Shillaber, with whom he formed a most delightful friend- 
ship. I would like to refer you to just a few things that have been 
said with regard to his work in the interests of schools by an 
associate on the board : 

Boston, July 6, 1892. 
... I well remember that when I was first elected to the school 
board Mr. Richardson promptly called upon me and with great courtesy 
gave me welcome. I ever found him one of the few doing the most and 
the best part of the work, exhibiting all those sterling qualities which he 
displayed elsewhere. His original and assigned work was always well 
and faithfully done. As to his own projects he always knew his own 
mind, and that mind was a judicial one. As to the projects of others 
he was considerate. In the matter of text-books he always carefully 
considered cost, scope, practicality, and illustrative and typographical 
features. He was a prudent and kindly adviser of teachers ; he was a 
Christian gentleman, a contrast and a foil to slippery politicians and 
men of doubtful ethics and hollow religious pretensions. I will quote 
the remark of a valued associate on the board made in reference to the 
composition of the board, " The best men have gone." Accepting this 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 22. Ill 

opinion, I know of no name more fitted to lead all the rest than that of 
your deceased and lamented husband. 

Alonzo C. Tenney. 

The following was sent me from a principal of one of the 
grammar schools, who held a prominent position during all your 
grandpapa's terms of service : 

Dear Mrs. Richardson: 

It seems to me very beautiful that you should enter upon this work 
which you propose for your young people, who could not, by reason of 
inexperience and immaturity, appreciate a character like his whom you 
seek to honor. I am deeply touched by the tender tribute you seek to 
render with your returning strength, thus living over again the old 
days while recalling the influences which have made your life so blessed, 
even now that he has gone on to a fuller life elsewhere. It was only in 
a general way that I knew of Mr. Richardson's work on the school 
board ; but his genius was, I think, for broad and general work when 
changes were to be effected which required calm, clear, and unswerving 
judgment and inflexible determination. He was eminently a righteous 
man, and even when special interests must be sacrificed to the general 
good his teachers believed in him. Of course it is not possible that 
such a character should always please. His virtues were of a rugged 
kind, purposeful, effective, sometimes aggressive, and are best appre- 
ciated when the events affected by his action have become remote in 
time. Many times we thought him hard, severe, willful, and often 
openly expressed bitterness was felt when some individual interests 
were sacrificed through his forcefulness ; but after the "smoke of 
battle " was cleared judgment grew kinder toward him, and, as I said 
before, the teachers felt that he meant to do right, that he was above 
personal spite and selfish considerations. In later years I suspected the 
tenderness and sympathy and appreciation of the teacher's work which 
was not patent at the time when the rush of daily cares, clash of opin- 
ions, and the hurts of the conflict forced the gentler judgment into 
abeyance. 

E. G. HoYT. 

While your grandpapa was connected with the school board 
he gave a reception at our home on Washington Avenue, Chelsea, 
inviting all the teachers of the city, with the members of the 
school committee past and present, and the superintendent. The 
gathering was a pleasant one, and was certainly conducive to good 
feeling among the teachers and committee, affording the latter some 



112 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 22. 

opportunity to see the bearing of the teachers of their children, 
and the teachers a chance to meet on equal grounds with their 
employers. I write you of some of these duties because I like to 
have you know that he was not only earnest in his own legiti- 
mate business but was just as earnest in the work he did for 
others, embodying the rule of doing his best in everything that he 
undertook. 

I shall never forget a bit of conversation that came to my 
ears once when riding in the steam cars on my way into Boston. 
I think I must write it to you as nearly as I can remember it. 
Two men were sitting in the seat behind me whom I did not know, 
and of course they had no idea who I was. They were busily 
engaged in conversation on public matters, to which I gave no 
heed, though I could have easily understood what they were saying 
had I so desired. Suddenly I caught your grandpapa's name, and 
was interested to give attention. One said to the other, " Do you 
know Mr. Richardson?" "What Richardson?" asked the other. 
"Why, C. A. Richardson, of the Congregationalist ; lives on Wash- 
ington Avenue." " O, yes, I know him well ! " " Pretty square 
man, isn't he ? " " Yes, he is decidedly that." " Isn't he a very 
positive sort of man?" "Yes, he is, very. But I'll tell you one 
thing about him. It is not a willful positiveness, but a positive- 
ness of conviction. He is a man who comes to a conclusion 
slowly ; he looks at a subject on all sides before he makes up his 
mind, and then he sticks to it. I tell you he's the right kind of 
a man, for when you go to look for him for anything that is 
needed you can find him right there every time." 

I felt that I had been justified in listening to get such an 
unbiased opinion of your grandpapa as that. It showed me the 
confidence of one man, at least, in his uprightness. I could tell you 
many positions of trust which he held if I were talking with you, 
but a long letter on such topics would become wearisome in the 
reading, so I will close by speaking of one of his most marked 
characteristics in all his dealings with others. 

He was a wonderfully prompt man. Although he served on 
many important committees, which consumed much of his time and 
thought, I think I may safely say that it was a most remarkable 
thing if he was ever late at an appointment. He believed that 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 2. 



113 



a man should not take a position on any committee which he 
could not generally fill, and that on time. He had but little 
patience with men who were invariably five, ten, fifteen, or more 
minutes late at a committee meeting. He has often said, " No one 
man has a right to waste so much of other men's time. We are 
made to lose many precious minutes by the careless ones on 
a committee." It was told me by a physician that your grand- 
papa's promptness became a standing joke in a family where at 
one time he called regularly at a certain hour. If by any means 
the time was lost they would say, " Never mind, we can set the 
clock by Mr. Richardson when he comes ; he'll be just on the 
minute." 

In any of the little things of life which might make trouble 
for another he was ever thoughtful. If he were going to the 
house of a friend to visit or spend the night he never forgot to 
notify the family at what hour he would be there, whether before 
a meal or after, and whether to remain over night or not. Many 
times he was inconvenienced by some minister who was to remain 
with us over the Sabbath and who would fail to be specific on 
these points. By this neglect, perhaps, your grandpapa would 
be detained from some important work, or the supper would be 
cleared away after having waited for some time beyond the hour 
the guest was due, or, after sitting up quite late for him, he would 
not appear at all until the next morning. Such things were always 
annoying to your grandpapa, and he considered them almost un- 
kind and discourteous in their thoughtlessness. But perhaps 
I have told you enough to assure you of his public interest in 
whatever makes for improvement and for peace. 



114 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 



LETTER No. 23. 



After we became well setttled in Chelsea we united our- 
selves with the Winnissimmet Congregational Church, of which 
Dr. I. P. Langworthy was then pastor. Your grandpapa loved 
that church ever after even as himself; he prayed for it, suf- 
fered for it, and labored for it with a spirit of tender devotion. 
In all its prosperity he was exceeding glad ; in its adversity he 
suffered with a sorrow that could not be comforted except at the 
throne of grace. In many ways he rejoiced to use his strength 
and means for its welfare. 

At one time when missionary concerts were among the regu- 
lar meetings of the church he had special charge of them and 
made them of the most intense interest. He laid out a plan for 
the entire year, chose a committee with whom to confer, and pre- 
pared topics for each concert. These were assigned to competent 
speakers, previously secured, and every meeting was arranged with 
care and attention to detail so that no time need be lost nor the 
interest flag. How packed the vestry used to be, with many stand- 
ing for lack of room and unwilling to depart because of the desire 
to hear the subjects brought forward ! Ah, those were what one 
might call enthusiastic meetings, and how we did enjoy them ! 

I must tell you a laughable experience that occurred at one 
of those concerts. It was soon after the war, and the subject, I 
think, was "The Freedmen." I had just taken into my family 
for help a freedwoman who had but recently come from the South, 
where she had been a slave all her life. She was very tall, very 
large, and very black, beside being clumsy and rheumatic ; but 
she was extremely grateful for the instruction I was giving her. 
I pitied her, and thought it might be a comfort to her to go to 
the concert and hear what was said about her people. I was not 
able to go, neither could I send her alone in her ignorance of 
our ways and on the icy streets. I suggested to your Aunt Hattie 
that she take the woman along with her and give her a seat. " O, 
yes!" said Aunt Hattie, full of fun and thinking it might make a 
little sensation when she should walk in with her. Betsey — for 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. II5 

that was her name — soon appeared with her big coal-black face 
encased in a huge white satin poke bonnet, looking verily like a 
" huckleberry in a big pan of milk." Aunt Hattie, who always 
saw the funny side of anything, was convulsed, and so was I ; but, 
knowing it would never do for her to go in such a striking cos- 
tume, I told Betsey that I would tie a veil over her bonnet, as 
I feared it would be too dressy for an evening meeting. " 'Tis 
putty fine," said Betsey, but " de missis gib it to me dun gone two 
years." I arranged a thick brown veil over it as well as I could 
for so large a bonnet, while, to relieve ourselves and not hurt 
Betsey's feelings, we laughed at my awkwardness in arranging the 
veil. At length they were ready. When they reached the vestry 
it was so full that Aunt Hattie could get no seat except by going 
to the very front. Putting on a bold face she walked up, Betsey 
following her, and found a seat. She had noticed several young 
friends as she passed them roll up their eyes at her, and she dared 
not look either one way or the other for fear of losing her self- 
control. When she herself was seated she caught the eyes of 
two young men opposite who were shaking with merriment, and 
that almost unbalanced her. Betsey was jubilant over the meet- 
ing, and so long as she was with us did not cease to talk of it 
nor of " de good folk at de Norf." 

He served for years on the parish committee, and was often 
chairman on the committees for the benevolences of the church. 
For several years he acted as deacon, and it was through his sug- 
gestion and influence that the old method of choosing the deacons 
for life, in that church at least, was done away with and they 
were chosen by rotation in office. I think I never knew him to 
refuse to serve for the welfare of the church or any of its members 
in any duty, however unpleasant it might be or however much he 
might shrink from it, if it was the desire of the church that he 
should serve. 

I call vividly to mind one time in its history when he shrank 
with great reluctance from the performance of an unusually trying 
work which had been placed in his hands by the vote of the board 
of deacons. He begged to have some one else take it. But they 
said, " It must be done, and there is no other man who can do it 
so carefully or so judiciously." He was so pained over this mat- 



Il6 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 

ter that it was more than two weeks before he could make up his 
mind to attend to it. Then he went in the strength of earnest 
prayer after many a wakeful night. He took up the cross, con- 
sidering in the most delicate manner he could devise how to make 
the truth known to the individual he was to see. The result proved 
as he feared. His coming was accounted as a personal affair, and 
bitter offense was taken toward him. No amount of explanation 
could ever set the matter right or help the brother beloved to see 
that your grandpapa was simply the agent or bearer of the un- 
pleasant decision arrived at by the deacons. What your grandpapa 
suffered from this unhappy affair can never be known, for he was 
a stanch and loyal friend to the individual personally though in 
great doubt about the wisest settlement of the matter in hand. 
I think he always carried a pain in his heart over this uncalled-for 
alienation and misjudgment of motive. 

He loved the Sunday school and its work ; was its superintend- 
ent for five consecutive years, laboring without stint for its wel- 
fare. How he studied to make the most of every opportunity to 
improve the school and cause it to become a nursery of the church ! 
I will copy for you a few words that were written to me in a letter 
of condolence soon after your grandpapa had gone to his new and 
more glorious labors. They will tell you more than I can from 
my own observation because I was so seldom able to be in the 
school. They were written by one of the superintendents of the 
primary department. She says : 

How honored am I that Mr. Richardson was my friend is a thought 
that comes to me whenever I enter my schoolroom, especially since 
to me was granted the priceless boon of standing beside your sainted 
husband when he was with us there for the last time on that never to 
be forgotten Communion Sabbath in January, 1891. He asked particu- 
larly about the Sunday school, and I said: "This is my anniversary, Mr. 
Richardson. It is six years today since you put me in charge of this 
blessed work — a work that grows dearer year by year." A smile broke 
over his face as he replied, " And I have never seen any reason to regret 
the part I had in it." Do you wonder that today and many times before 
today those words have come to me like his parting blessing, and that 
my ceaseless prayer is that today, with his clearer vision and perfect 
understanding, he may be able still to say of the labors in this nursery 
of the beloved church where the tiny feet are set in the paths that lead 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. II7 

to God, "I do not regret my part in appointing their leader?" O Mrs. 
Richardson, can you know what it has meant to me all these seven 
'years to have received my commission from such a man of God, or how 
much of the blessing that has attended the labors of my coworkers has 
come from the inspiration received from that good man full of the Holy 
Ghost ! 

Another of the constant and faithful teachers sent me the 
following with regard to his work in the school : 

. . . The work which Mr. Richardson put into the Sabbath school 
alone when he was superintendent was astonishing. How many pleas- 
ant and profitable evenings the teachers have passed in his hospitable 
home to go out and do better work for God because of his refreshing 
and helpful words ! The little sermons that he gave in a few words at 
the close of the Sunday school often proved as barbed arrows which 
remained in the hearts of the scholars. 

While your grandpapa was thus connected with the Sunday 
school it was his custom to hold an annual reception at our 
house of all the officers and teachers of the school, including the 
officers and teachers of the mission chapel which was under the 
auspices of our church. These gatherings were made a place for 
mutual help. Persons were invited to write brief essays on 
methods of teaching, on the results of certain methods, on any 
discouragements or encouragements that might have come in their 
way, and upon any and every subject that could aid the teacher 
in his labors. Rev. Asa Bullard, the veteran Sunday-school worker, 
was with us one evening to interest and inspire. More or less 
chorus music wzs interspersed and the whole evening was always 
made profitable to all. 

When he was not superintendent he was never without a 
class except for some unavoidable reason. At one time when he 
had a class of young men in whom he was specially interested 
a severe illness in his family compelled his giving it up, much to 
their mutual regret, I will inclose the letter he received from them 
after his resignation : 

Chelsea, November 12, 1865. 
Dear Sir : 

It was with emotions of deep disappointment that we heard read 
last Sabbath your kind yet unwelcome note informing us of continued 



Il8 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23, 

illness in your family and your consequent inability to meet longer with 
us at present in the capacity of teacher. But sympathizing with you as 
we do in your domestic trials, and fully believing that you would not 
unless necessity had compelled have sundered that relation which has 
so long existed between us — a connection which has always been so 
pleasant to us, we trust to yourself also, and which has gained for you 
our merited and profound respect and sincere affection, even though it 
has thrown upon your burdened shoulder an additional weight of respon- 
sibility; with these feelings of sympathy and perfect confidence we 
could not feel it right or consistent on our part to give utterance to the 
natural impulse which led us to say, "We cannot give up our beloved 
teacher." 

We must needs then accept your kind words of counsel and the 
grateful assurance that your prayers will still be with us, though we 
shall miss the instruction which has given us such pleasure and enlight- 
enment, stimulating our love for the Word of God, and above all point- 
ing out to us the straight and narrow path of Christian duty as the only 
road which leads man's footsteps to the city of eternal life, and in which 
we were made to feel that the consistent example of our teacher com- 
mended to us the perfect model of Him whose cross opens to us all a 
free highway to heaven. 

Accept then, dear friend, our heartfelt thanks for the interest which 
we have been so happy to feel you have ever taken in our temporal and 
spiritual prosperity, for the labor you have bestowed to render our 
lessons interesting as well as instructive, and the care you have taken to 
draw out and consider our often imperfectly expressed ideas, as well as 
to acquaint us with your own more mature thoughts. That you may 
soon rejoice in the restored health of your family and again be enabled 
to meet us in the Sabbath school is the earnest desire and prayer of 
each one of your affectionate class. 

Charles F. Dole, 
A. L. BROVi'N, 

For the class. 

Here is a letter that came to me bringing comfort from a 
class of young ladies who more recently had been under your 
grandpapa's instruction in the Sunday school which he had so 
lately left : 

Chelsea, March 6, 1891. 
Dear Mrs. Richardson : 

So often am I reminded of the many pleasant associations with the 
one whom I was so happy as to have for a teacher in the Sunday school 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 23. I 19 

that I cannot refrain from sending to you some expression of my 
thoughts. Those hours spent with Mr. Richardson on Sunday, when 
he so lovingly and faithfully instructed us in the Word of God, will 
always be a source of happy recollection and of inspiration to higher 
living and thinking. I always felt that every word came from a soul 
true to its convictions of truth and duty and with a strong hold on the 
deep things of God. You can well understand how fruitless any attempt 
would be to express in words this appreciation of what he has done for 
us all. . . . The class joins with me most heartily in sending you this 
expression of our loving remembrance of Mr. Richardson and of deep 
sympathy for you and yours in this great loss and bereavement. 

Most sincerely, 

Alice M. Allen. 

His thoughts were not alone for the teachers in Sabbath 
school or for the children, he was interested in all the church peo- 
ple and felt that he had something to do for the aged also, as the 
following newspaper clipping will show: 

On Wednesday afternoon of this week there was a gathering of the 
old people of the Chestnut Street Church [the name " Winnissimmet " 
had been dropped for some reason] at the house of Mr. C. A. Richard- 
son on Washington Avenue. The invitation embraced all the members 
of that church over seventy years of age, of whom there were thirty, in- 
cluding Mr. Richardson's mother, who was nearly seventy-seven. One 
member had the opportunity of celebrating his eighty-fourth birthday. 
After tea brief devotional exercises were conducted by Rev. Mr. Lang- 
worthy, including a most tender and appropriate address. One of the 
aged members recited a devotional poem appropriate to the occasion, 
which had not been in print for nearly half a century. Another gave 
a solo of sacred song to the great delight of the company. 

Later in the evening the past and present officers of the church 
came in to give a churchly greeting to these aged members of the 
Heavenly Father's household. When they were ready to go home 
all were sent in the family carriage. The aged man who recited 
the poem was the grandfather of the dear little Mellin boy who 
was found murdered on the beach by the notorious Jesse Pome- 
roy some time later. 

No one of us is ever conscious of the many silent ways in 
which our influence goes out to affect the lives of others, and this 



I20 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 

thought leads me to refer to the testimony of a teacher in Chelsea 
who had long known your grandpapa. She was lying on her bed 
very sick, and singularly her thoughts turned to him, dwelling 
upon his life and how it had affected hers. She says : " I remem- 
bered how constant he was at the prayer meeting, always sitting 
in just about the same seat. How regular his attendance at the 
Sabbath school ! I could see him as, years ago, he would go out 
carefully about five minutes before its close and I almost knew 
that it was to go home to relieve his wife in her care for the little 
ones. Then I thought Mr. Richardson can never know how much 
I owe him ; that silent influence of his has blessed me ; why, 
even the luxuries I am enjoying in my convalescence are due to 
him, though he knows not of it. O, how little he knows what 
he has done for others ! I should like to tell him so." In the 
afternoon of the day of these meditations she was told that the 
carriages that were gathering about the church opposite her home 
were those attendant upon the funeral services of your beloved 
grandpapa. A few weeks later when she was speaking to your 
Aunt Hattie of this marked coincidence she added, " Do you re- 
member what he told you once about trying to be careful of your 
expenses, and how he gave you instruction what to do, and you said, 
' I am doing just what he told me to do and I have so much in the 
bank ? ' Well, after you had gone I said to myself, ' What is there 
to hinder my doing the same thing ? That advice is as good for 
me as it is for my friend.' I have followed it from that day, and 
now in the time of my need I enjoy the comforts I have earned. 
Without that influence I should not have had them." 

I have written considerably about your grandpapa's connec- 
tion with the Sabbath school, because it was work that he loved. 
I may now add a similar testimony to his love for the prayer meet- 
ing. It was an ordinance of the church that was especially dear 
to him. Not simply as a duty, though that feeling had great 
weight with him, but because he knew that here he found a near 
approach to the mercy seat in the company of others who were 
often heavy laden and weary like himself, and their prayers were 
sympathetic and helpful. His voice was not always heard in the 
meeting, because he was sometimes too exhausted either to speak 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 121 

or pray, and though his heart was full of praise he could not sing. 
Usually, however, he had a few words to offer either in prayer or 
exhortation and sometimes both. Some who have heard him may 
not be able to realize the cross it was to him to take part in these 
gatherings, but he suffered often from a diffidence that was hard 
to overcome. He never allowed this to hold him to his seat, how- 
ever, and bore the cross for the pleasure he gained in giving his 
testimony for Christ. How many a message he has brought to 
my own heart during that "sweet hour of prayer!" That others 
enjoyed him also in the prayer meeting I have abundant evidence, 
and write you from what I know. Often I have had the remark 
made to me, " How much Mr. Richardson helped me tonight ; " or, 
" I always like to hear Mr. Richardson because he gives me some- 
thing to take home that I can think of or pray over ; " or, " I wish 
Mr. Richardson would always take part in the meeting, his sin- 
cerity and devout spirit are such an inspiration to me." 

So I could fill pages with similar expressions to show you that 
his life was "hid with Christ in God." Yi& felt his prayers; he 
asked for what he thought was needed. His exhortations ever 
had a word of appeal or a word of real help or were the word of 
praise just fitted to the hour. Reverence was a marked feature 
of his character and attitude toward God. A friend who has 
known him from her childhood and who was at one time a mem- 
ber of his father's family makes this statement : 

The first prayer that ever impressed me and at all made me realize 
what prayer was came from that good man's lips. The solemn rever- 
ence in his voice when he said " O Lord," or " Our Father in heaven," 
made a lasting impression on my child heart. I loved to hear him pray. 
He made " Our Father " seem so like a real person. 

A constant attendant upon our weekly prayer meeting says : 

The meeting never seemed complete to me till Mr. Richardson had 
taken part either by testimony or prayer. How well I remember the 
first time I ever heard him ! It seemed as if he must have lived in 
St. Paul's time and gone about with him in his journeyings, he made his 
life and teachings so vivid. The effect upon me was to create a desire 
for the Word of God. I began to study it more and more as I saw there 
were heights and depths of riches that I had never explored. 



122 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 

Another person, alluding to his careful habits of speech, once 
said : 

I know of one man who will never have any idle words to answer 
for, and that is Mr. Richardson. I never knew a person so careful to 
keep a watch upon his lips lest he say something he ought not. 

I might continue these testimonies that show to you and to 
the world that prayer was life and health and joy to your sainted 
grandpapa while on earth ; and is not this where we need such 
prayer ? It is only praise that he renders now in the " many man- 
sions " on high. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 1 23 



LETTER No. 24. 



During the last dozen or fifteen years of your grandpapa's 
life an unusual number of changes occurred in the editorial de- 
partment of the Congregationalist. The original firm, however, re- 
mained unchanged until 1887, and the business relations between 
himself and his beloved partners, Dr. Dexter and Mr. Greene, 
were singularly harmonious to the very end. The tie which bound 
them together was more like that existing between brothers. Of 
these three Mr. Greene is the only one now left, and he withdrew 
from active labor at the date mentioned. Among those who were 
more or less closely associated with your grandpapa in the office 
during that period were Rev. Edward Abbott, D.D., who resigned 
in 1877 and entered the Episcopal ministry; Rev. Frank T. Lee, 
now of Muscatine, Iowa ; Mrs. Sarah K. Bolton, the well-known 
author ; Rev. C. C. Carpenter, still occupying his " Conversation 
Corner" in the person of " Mr. Martin; " Rev. M. D. Bisbee, the 
present librarian of Dartmouth College ; Henry E. Bourne, now a 
professor in Adelbert College, Cleveland, Ohio ; Miss Henrietta 
H. Stanwood, who filled the position of church-news editor for 
five years with remarkable skill and fidelity ; Rev. F. H. Kasson, 
now editor of Education ; and Miss Ida E, Kittredge, the first 
stenographer of whose services your grandpapa ever availed him- 
self regularly, he being himself a skillful manipulator of both the 
caligraph and the Hammond typewriter. There was no change 
during this period in the New York correspondent, that place 
being admirably filled, as it still is, by Rev. Dr. A. Huntington 
Clapp ; but the Chicago correspondence was conducted first by 
Rev. Dr. Simeon Gilbert, the present editor of the Advance, and 
now by Rev. Dr. E. F. Williams. His other associates, who still 
remain, were Rev. A. E. Dunning, D.D., Rev. Morton Dexter, 
Rev. H. A, Bridgman, and Miss Frances J. Dyer. The entrance 
into the firm in 1887 of Mr. William F. Whittemore was a great 
assistance to your grandpapa, enabling him to throw off much 
of the care of the business department upon younger shoulders; 
nor should I fail to mention the great comfort which Mr. E. H. 



124 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 

Hames, the faithful chief of the subscription department, was to 
him for more than a quarter of a century. 

These numerous changes meant anxiety and solicitude for 
him, beside more or less extra labor in different lines of work. He 
was the one to designate and assign the duties of each new assist- 
ant and to establish him in his place. He must be sure that the 
workers and their sentiment concurred with the spirit and senti- 
ment of the paper. As every one knows, it is no enviable task to 
direct mature minds into new channels or to turn them aside into 
new ways of putting thought, though the responsibility is not to be 
theirs. If they have been accustomed to any form or method of 
their own it naturally seems to them the better. 

Yet, so far as I am informed, there was always a pleasant 
state of feeling among those with whom he had to deal and who 
must receive instruction of any kind from him. I have no doubt 
they often felt that he was too exact and almost unnecessarily 
careful, if that were possible, in newspaper work. I cannot believe, 
however, that he was fault-finding. That he was extremely partic- 
ular and very decided in his demands, I have no doubt. That he 
was also methodical to a degree, and that system was perfected in 
him, no one can deny; for this was just as marked in his life at 
home as it was in his ofhce. If a book were taken from the bookcase 
for use, it was never left lying on the table for some one else to 
put away. After a newspaper was read it was folded and put in 
its place and not thrown loosely about for another to dispose of; 
if a few stitches were broken away on coat or vest it was never 
carelessly or neglectfully laid aside, but was given to some one to 
be repaired before it became a rent that should permanently deface 
the garment or be a great task to put it in order. Everything was 
thus seen to and carefully kept, so that all things were as they 
should be — decent and in order. He tried to impress upon his 
children that a great part of the suffering occasioned by poverty 
was the result of want of care and attention on the part of those 
who suffered. " For it is just as true as that the sun shines in the 
heavens," he would say, that " a stitch in time saves nine." 

Having these characteristics so strongly developed it was very 
trying when a stranger, or friend even, asked the use of his desk 
and the favor was cheerfully granted, to have that stranger or 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 1 25 

friend so unmindful of true courtesy, which demands that other 
people's things should be left as they are found, as to leave every- 
thing out of place — papers scattered all over the desk, special 
selections meddled with or lost among the refuse they have left 
upon the floor; or, perhaps, to cap the climax of untidiness, leave a 
huge unsightly blot of ink on the clean cloth of the desk so care- 
fully kept before. To most editors these annoyances will come, 
and to a stranger not knowing the inconvenience of such a loan it 
might seem almost unkind to be refused the few moments' conven- 
ience of ready material at a briefly vacated desk. Yet it might 
and often has proved to be not only disturbing but quite disastrous 
at times to the kind owner for just this want of care of other 
people's things. 

It was along in the early eighties that your grandpapa became 
convinced that he must make some effort to lighten considerably 
his own labors ; yet, with the ever increasing rivalry in all journal- 
ism, there appeared to be no way of release, though more assist- 
ance was secured with this end in view. Even this proved to be like 
the help which came to tired women when the new sewing machine 
was introduced. It was hoped that it would reduce her work 
almost to a pastime; but instead it was very materially increased, 
because then it became so easy to sew that everything had to be 
embellished with ruffles and row upon row of stitching until her 
work was doubled and trebled. So it was in journalistic work — 
the more the help the more the necessity to push out into improve- 
ments and new methods. 

During the later years of his life, when discussions were rife 
upon the Andover question, the great temperance issues, the 
Home Missionary problem, and later still on the controversies of 
the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, he 
became so weary of them that he felt life was all too short for 
such feelings of bitterness as were often engendered. He longed 
to give up the strife and yield his position to those who were more 
in the spirit of it than he was. Of course he was aware that so 
long as he was at the head of a religious paper, and that paper 
a denominational one, it was absolutely necessary that the organ 
so standing before its church should speak its convictions to the 
public whether it gained enemies or friends. This was a source 



126 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 

of constant grief to him, and 1 think the unpleasantness of a some- 
times necessary opposition wore upon him very decidedly. His 
was a spirit of Christian reconciliation rather than controversy. 
On the other hand, he had strong convictions of duty, and would 
never shirk, though it brought pain and unjust criticism ; and he 
was not quite sure whether it would be the attitude of real Christian 
manliness to forsake his life work simply because it had come to 
a place of moral and spiritual struggle. 

He talked seriously of retiring from his onerous labors in the 
year 1889, and was desirous for some one to come into the office 
who would enter into its interests and learn its duties while he 
was there able to give instruction and advice. It was with this 
object in view that he urged the present managing editor, Rev. 
Howard A. Bridgman, to reconsider his purpose of taking a pas- 
torate, and come into the Cojigregationalist to prepare for that work 
with the hope eventually of taking his place. He wished to close 
his labors on the paper and live in a more quiet way after he 
should reach the age of sixty, should liis life be spared so long. 
He had worked much beyond his strength for several of the pre- 
ceding years, but circumstances created the necessity. 

In the fall of 1889 it seemed for many reasons best that we 
should close our home in Chelsea during the winter, and your 
great-grandmother being desirous to make a visit to the old home- 
stead we planned as comfortable arrangements as possible for her 
there with a grandson, while we went to board at Hotel Bellevue 
in Boston. The next spring having an opportunity to sell our 
place in Chelsea your grandpapa decided to do so. It was hard 
to leave a home where we had spent so many pleasant hours, 
having lived there twenty years. Death had not entered our doors 
during all that time to remove any immediate relative (though Miss 
Higgins, who died in Tokio, was almost as dear), and our home 
had been the scene of many gatherings that were full of blessing ; 
sometimes we had felt that we had even "entertained angels" 
though not unawares. 

This necessary arrangement so troubled your grandpapa on 
account of his aged mother, then in her ninety-fourth year, that he 
was glad to accept the chance to be in Franklin with your mamma 
for two months that summer. What a joy it was to him in very 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 1 27 

many ways ! You will never forget that summer, will you ? Grand- 
papa could be near his beloved mother and see her every week. 
He could have all his little family together — wife, children, and 
grandchildren. He could have an opportunity to go over all the 
old haunts of his boyhood, and he could renew some of the old 
friendships. All these things gave him a most pleasurable and 
satisfactory summer both in anticipation and reality. 

How much you contributed to that happiness you will never 
know, though you can be sure it was a great deal. How he en- 
joyed those days of seeing all his own together, of sitting morn- 
ing and evening with you around your papa's table ! I can even 
now see the glad smile that always beamed approval and the toss 
of the editor's bag to prove it as he drew near the house in com- 
ing from the station and beheld our faces at the door or our- 
selves on the walk to greet him. 

How he loved you, his dear grandchildren ! How many were 
the projects he had planned for your future, with the expectation 
that you were all to be true and worthy men and women ! And 
those drives about his old home, how full of interest they were ! 
watching every load of hay and every farmer's wagon that we met 
lest some old and almost forgotten face should escape his recogni- 
tion. And those Sabbaths, how blissful they were ! for he enjoyed 
his early church home, and as his custom was, wherever he might 
be stopping, he made himself as one with the church. Its in- 
terests were his as a member of the one great household of Christ. 
No matter where he might be, if there was a prayer meeting or any 
service of God's people there he was to be found in the Master's 
name and with the Master's spirit. I shall never forget an evening 
prayer meeting that we attended once while on a journey with our 
carriage. We had stopped for the night, and he had inquired about 
the churches and had learned that a meeting was to be held that 
evening. We went, and near the close of the service when there 
was a pause your grandpapa arose and in tender words expressed 
his joy in finding his brethren and friends wherever he was ; he 
spoke of his sense of being at home and the precious fellowship 
he enjoyed, etc., and then he offered a brief prayer for the spirit- 
ual welfare of that particular church. His words were tender, and 
expressed real, heartfelt sympathy. After the meeting it seemed 



128 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 

as if we were among old friends, so cordial was the greeting from 
the little band of worshipers. It was an inspiration to me and 
a convincing proof that God's children have a peculiar relationship 
to each other all over the world, and that they may make their 
influence felt wherever they will. 

As his years had increased a beautiful, tender spirit of love to 
all manifested itself in his daily life ; his prayers were full of 
kindliness for those who knew not God, full of pathetic expres- 
sions for Christ's kingdom, of earnest words for those who were 
dear to him, and especially was his soul full of desire for the pros- 
perity of the church. One could trace a general solicitude for any 
who were in trouble or who were having what the world calls a 
hard time. 

Do you remember how he used to go every Sunday after- 
noon to the old home to read to your great-grandmother, anxious 
to make up to her as far as possible the conveniences she had 
been caused to forego by leaving a city home ? Your dear great- 
grandmother never knew that your grandpapa had gone to heaven 
before her and would be waiting to receive her there, for when 
grandpapa's spirit was released from earth and took its upward 
flight, by some kind touch of God's hand at that same hour, she 
was stricken with a partial paralysis of the brain, and though she 
lingered here five weeks longer she was never told that her son 
had gone. It was pathetic to hear her say in her weakness, a 
short time before she went to meet him, in one lucid moment : 
'' O, I wish my only son Charles was here that I might lay my 
head on his shoulder and rest." 

At the close of that summer he thought as she had not been 
able to attend church for a long time it would be pleasant for her 
to sit at the communion table once more, and you will be in- 
terested to hear of the blessed season which he planned for her. 
I was not able to be there on account of illness, but grandpapa 
told me all about it, and a dear friend who was present wrote me 
of its impression on himself. I will send you his letter to read, 
only the joy of the experience cannot be expressed in words : 

A SPECIAL COMMUNION SEASON. 

The second Sabbath in September was a day which will long be re- 
membered by many in the First Church in Frankhn. Mr. Richardson had 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 1 29 

often wished that his beloved mother might enjoy another season of com- 
munion with a few Christian friends at the old homestead. On the seats 
nearest the table sat our venerable friend, Mrs. Harriet B. Richardson, 
ninety-five and a half years old. At her left was her lifelong friend, 
Mrs. Chloe Metcalf, only two years her junior. On her right hand was 
her only son, C. A. Richardson, who had made the arrangements for this 
soul feast. The service began by singing "Jesus, lover of my soul." 
Mrs. W. F. Ray, a granddaughter of Mrs. Richardson, led in the service 
of song. Our pastor, Rev. G. E. Lovejoy, read from the seventeenth 
chapter of John and other appropriate selections of Scripture, and in a 
very solemn and impressive manner asked God's blessing. Again we 
sang " Rock of Ages cleft for me." When the bread was passed to our 
aged friend I noticed that her son took a piece and put it in her hand as 
she was too blind to see, and also how tenderly he put the cup to her 
lips. I feel that language is impotent to express the look of peace and 
holy joy that sat upon the faces of mother and son as they participated 
in this sacred service, and we all felt that it was good to be there. No 
nearer has the Saviour been on a like occasion than he was to this little 
company of Christians present in that room on that Sabbath day. The 
closing hymn was " Blest be the tie that binds," the audience singing the 
whole hymn. No one in that company thought that this was the last 
time we should enjoy such a season, but in less than six months both 
son and mother were transferred from the earthly to the heavenly com- 
munion. I think no one present will ever forget the impression made 
upon the mind by the interesting scene. May the sacred and blessed 
influence of that holy hour abide with us to life's latest day ! 

There were present on that occasion the following persons, 
some of whom you know : 

Mrs. Chloe Metcalf. Miss Sarah A. Blake. 

Mrs. Clarissa Adams. Mr. and Mrs. E. E. Baker. 

Mr. and Mrs. James F. Adams. Mr. David Fisher. 

Charles Adams. Mr. S. C. Bourne. 

Dea. Charles Gowen. Miss Jemima Daniels. 

Rev. and Mrs. G. E, Lovejoy. Mrs. W. F. Ray. 

Mrs. Abbie Sinclair. Dea. and Mrs. Geo. W. Bacon. 

Mr. and Mrs. O. A. Stanley, Mr. and Mrs. E. N. Bullard. 

Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Rockwood. Mr. E. F. Richardson. 

Miss Jennie Baker. 



130 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 25. 



LETTER No. 25. 



After the happy weeks at your home in Franklin we went 
to Boston, returning to Hotel Bellevue. Our rooms there were 
almost a home to us in their arrangement, and grandpapa took 
comfort in being so n^r his office — a convenience for which he 
had often wished. He was a happy man whenever I was able 
to go with him to a lecture or a concert or the weekly prayer 
meeting, and we were anticipating a great deal of pleasure in 
being able to go out together that last winter of his life. We 
were centrally located where we could easily reach the various 
places of interest, to which he had already purchased tickets. 
I had been to a number of lectures and to the weekly meeting 
quite regularly with him. I had been realizing as never be- 
fore his spiritual growth, and had watched closely the sweetly 
developing Christian character and felt afraid lest heaven was 
nearer to him than I knew. 1 somehow realized that he was 
looking into unseen things almost as if they were realities. 

How can I ever describe to you what that last prayer meet- 
ing we attended together was and is to me in its influence ! The 
leader had read the Scriptures and then called upon your grand- 
papa to offer the opening prayer. The subject before the meet- 
ing was " What can we do, each one of us, to bring the Holy 
Spirit down into our midst ? " and this was the burden of grand- 
papa's prayer — so earnest, so appealing, so evident that he stood 
at the open gate of heaven pleading with the very Christ, that 
1 almost held my breath. There was a hush in the audience as if 
God was there. I felt afraid, and I wanted to take hold of your 
grandpapa's hand lest he leave me. When he sat down the 
momentary silence burdened me, and I turned involuntarily to 
assure myself of his presence. I could feel the shining of his 
countenance as if he were on the mount with God in the very 
presence of the overshadowing cloud. He never came down 
again from that mount. The fragrance and the blessing of that 
last meeting and that last public prayer with me at his side, with 
its holy impression, will never leave me. 

On the morning of November 13 he went as usual to the 



MEMORIAL LETTEE, NO. 25. 131 

office with no anticipation of anything serious. Soon after, he 
returned with a face so white and sunken in its expression, mani- 
festing such distress of feeling that he was trembling greatly. He 
could scarcely speak for emotion. "What is it?" I asked. "O," 
said he, " I have such sad news ; Dr. Dexter is gone ! " Then he 
told me the story of his sudden demise — how he was found in his 
bed like one asleep, having been awakened on the heavenly shore 
without the pain of dying. The blow was a severe one to your 
grandpapa, for they two had been associated in the closest and 
most harmonious relations for nearly thirty-five years. He had 
had great hope to leave the office in the coming January, if 
everything should be favorable, though he was not yet fully de- 
cided. Circumstances had come up to make the question a 
difficult one to determine without considerable deliberation. 
This affliction decided his remaining where he was for another 
year ; and with a heavy heart he went about his daily tasks. 
Dr. Dexter's death necessarily involved radical changes in the 
office, though he had chosen his successor in Dr. Dunning, who 
had been with him at work for a year or more already. As 
Rev. Morton Dexter was heir to his father's share in the pro- 
prietorship of the Congregatiotialist and Dr. Dunning was to take 
the chair of editor in chief, it was now their first business to 
form a new partnership, the other being dissolved by Dr. Dex- 
ter's death. Your grandpapa was rather perplexed about his 
course in the matter, being greatly embarrassed in his decision 
on account of the shortness of his proposed stay. On Christ- 
mas night I was taken very ill, and this added a new solici- 
tude to his already overburdened mind. The suddenness of the 
doctor's death made him more anxious for me than he other- 
wise would have been. 

On Sunday, January 4, we had all hoped to go to Chelsea to 
sit at communion as a family once more in our old church home ; 
as it was he was obliged to go alone, and he was sad enough. 
God saw his need that day, and visited his soul with an unusual 
blessing from the storehouse of his love. Many tender and im- 
pressive experiences met him during those Sabbath hours. One 
of them was attending the funeral of the wife of one of his asso- 
ciate deacons ; this also added to his weight of anxiety on my 



132 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 25. 

account. He went in to speak with the family and tell them of 
his sympathy. After coming home he told me of the service 
with much tenderness, and spoke of the whole day with strong 
feeling. Especially did he dwell on the richness of his enjoy- 
ment at the Lord's table, and how he had longed for me to be at 
his side that we might share the feast of love together. Then 
he asked after my own spiritual welfare, and if I should be will- 
ing to leave my home and all so dear to me here if God should 
see it to be best. When I answered him in the affirmative he 
asked if I should be willing to stay and suffer, also. He then 
spoke of the New Jerusalem with all its glories, and taking the 
Bible in his hand he sat down and slowly and quietly read the 
account in Revelation. After this he talked of those whom we 
should meet there, and tried to recall as many as he could of 
the great number of friends whom we should know whenever we 
should go hence. How he dwelt upon that union of friends, as 
if the longing to see them was soon to be satisfied! O, how 
little I realized that he was thinking that we were soon to be 
separated, not by his going hither, but by my going ! I think 
he could not trust himself to tell me his fears, and I was too 
ill to know my own danger. God's thoughts are not like our 
thoughts, neither are his ways like our ways. 

The following Sunday I was much worse. He was restless 
and uneasy, constantly coming to my bedside. When asked why 
he went to it so often, fearing it might disturb me, he replied, 
"Why, I can't keep away." Taking my hand in his he would 
gently stroke it, then smooth my cheek, the tears dropping mean- 
while silent and still on my hand and wrist. I knew that he had 
something that he wanted to say to me. I tried to ask what it 
was, but felt too weak for the exertion ; so that tender word was 
never spoken. How I long to know it now ! but he will tell me 
what it was when I meet him in the New Jerusalem, and maybe 
we shall talk it all over there. 

Your grandpapa had not been feeling quite like himself for 
several days, but did not say much about it until that same night, 
when he complained a little and took something which he hoped 
would relieve him in a short time. Monday he still complained 
of considerable discomfort, but kept at work nearly all day. Tues- 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 25, I33 

day he was no better, and Tuesday night the pain had increased 
so much that he had a restless night. Wednesday morning he 
seemed to be decidedly worse, and was in so great pain that I 
tried to persuade him not to go to his work ; as some of the 
editors were absent, however, he thought it quite necessary for 
him to be in the office for a time at least, but assured me that 
he would not stay if he felt no better. About eleven o'clock 
he came home with a most sunken and distressed look on his 
face, and was suffering intensely. The nurse who was caring 
for me went to his help at once, and prepared what we hoped 
might bring him relief until the physician should come. He 
suffered a great deal through the remainder of the day until 
near night, when he thought the medicine the doctor had left 
was affording him some relief. He sat up a few minutes, but 
found that the bed was the better place and lay down again. 
An hour or so later the pain returned with great severity, and 
he passed a very sick night. He continued to grow worse, peri- 
tonitis having developed, which was soon followed by pneumonia, 
both making rapid strides toward the consummation of their work. 
On Saturday morning the physician called for a consultation ; 
then I knew there was danger, but had no idea how great it was. 
No one told me that there was no hope, but the rather that if his 
strength could hold out and if he could be kept quiet he might 
rally. I was far too weak fully to understand and take in the 
situation, because I had not been with him at all and could not 
mark the changes that had come over him. I asked if I might 
be taken in to see him, and they said it was not best. I supposed 
the fear was for me rather than for him, and when it was too late 
and he could not know me I had no strength to go. O, that 
night ! only God and I know its agony. I waited and watched 
for any signal that should tell me that his spirit had been ushered 
into the Everlasting Presence, to enter upon a higher and holier 
service for his Lord than he had ever known here. When it came 
I knew your grandpapa's work was finished ; the hand that had 
penned so many helpful words for others was powerless ; the 
heart that had beat so lovingly for me, and so kindly for hundreds 
whom he had known and whom he knew his influence would 
touch, had ceased to beat. The soul so full of devotion to the 



134 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 25. 

Master, of longings to do and be for Christ, was satisfied in 
his likeness. He had sent me word by Aunt Alice that which- 
ever way the sickness should turn it would be all right, and so it 
was. It was right with God and right with him, and I shall know 
the right by and by. And, my dear children, he has left a legacy 
to you which neither wealth nor honor nor fame could give, and 
which nothing can take away — the legacy of a righteous life and 
an unsullied name. If you imitate his virtues you will never be 
drawn into temptations that shall hurt you, nor into vices that 
destroy. If you follow right because it is right always, con- 
scientiously performing every duty as he did, your lives will be a 
blessing to the world in every line of your activity, and you will 
be trusted and helpful citizens. If you love and revere his God 
as he loved and revered him you will at last have an abundant 
entrance into the mansions where he is. 




Mr. Richardson at Sixty. 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 26. 135 



LETTER No. 26. 



My Dear Grandchildren : 

As I have come to the closing letter of the long series pre- 
pared for you I am conscious of many pleasant experiences omit- 
ted on which I would like to dwell. I realize, also, the imperfect 
arrangement of my material, and I am sensible of the interest 
I may have failed to incite in you as I would. I have tried, how- 
ever, to write what I thought would be of greatest help to you 
through the journey which you have but just begun — the life 
awaiting you! It is rather difficult, I find, to select and arrange 
from the memory of forty-three years or more the things that 
might be best suited to all your minds and for. every purpose. 
My object for you, as I told you in the beginning, has been more 
to show you in the most effectual way what and who your grand- 
papa was, what he did, and what he tried to do and be. Of 
course I cannot bring before you the hundreds of interesting rem- 
iniscences of so long a life nor the many scenes in which his 
piety shone forth as the sun. I have given you some of the tes- 
timonies from the " cloud of witnesses " who have spoken of him, 
and I shall seal with my love the account of the funeral services 
which I had reported for you. These, with extracts from various 
letters of condolence received from those who esteemed him 
and other precious testimonies that have been added, I will send 
to you in a separate package, with these letters which I have 
written, to keep and read as words from living witnesses to 
your dear grandpapa's life. 

I am not at liberty to relate to you in detail, nor could I if 
I were, the tender and loving scenes scattered all the way along 
through the years of our happy union. Indeed, if I would I could 
not describe the gentleness manifested to me in my oft-recurring 
and severe illnesses, his patient and loving solicitude, his precious 
prayers for me while kneeling at my bedside as well as at the 
family altar, and his anxiety lest any of the troublesome annoyances 
of the kitchen should find their way to my sick room. I may tell 
you, though, of his words of encouragement to endurance and for- 
titude, sometimes saying with a smile : " It is very easy to tell 



136 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 26. 

you to be courageous and to have fortitude, because words are 
easy to speak ; but I sadly fear that I should not be able to bear 
what you do with your patience and fortitude. But I will help 
you all I can." 

Neither can I tell you of all the sorrowing places where we 
passed through the cloud hand in hand, yielding four sweet 
babes to the arms of death. I cannot explain to you how God 
whispered peace to our aching hearts at these times, for it is not 
for any to know what is in the heart of another. But I can speak 
to you of how quickly he recognized the hand of the Father in 
heaven, even above the sorrow of laying away from our arms our 
only son, a babe of not quite two days. How your grandpapa 
longed for that little son's life ! Yet when he saw that though 
he was a beautiful child the heart's action was so imperfect that 
he could not live, he had a desire to give back to God the infant 
soul, and the dear child was baptized at my bedside. The next 
Congregatioiialist bore the announcement of the baby's death with 
the Scripture, "One day is with the Lord as a thousand years." 
How full of praise ! He could never talk about this little son, 
and only once he said to me, when I was grieving over the 
event: "God surely knows best! Let us trust in him now as 
at all times." 

I could never tire telling you of your grandpapa's faithful- 
ness to me, it is so sweet a lesson for you to learn — how, in all 
my illnesses, which were many and often long, he was at my side 
the first thing in the morning and the last minute he had to spare 
before leaving home for the day. I was his first thought on com- 
ing home at night, and the last previous to his retiring. He 
never seemed to weary or forget, though for five and six months 
at a time I might be confined to my bed. His was an untiring 
devotion. 

It may be a pleasure to you to know some of the rules by 
which your grandpapa's life was governed as the outgrowth of the 
Christian foundation on which he builded. I have often heard 
him say to your mamma and aunt when they were small and 
needed reproof : " I do not wish you to do as I request simply for 
the reason that I request it, but I want you to see that it is best 
that you should do so for the sake of right. Always do right 
because it is ri^ht." 



MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 26. I37 

" Never be an eyeservant ! anything that is deceitful is 
wrong, and does more harm to yourself than to any one else ; be 
sure to do as you would if you knew some one was looking on." 

" Never associate with foul-mouthed companions ; you cannot 
afford to keep such company for a moment when you know it." 

" Never break willfully or carelessly a promise nor an abso- 
lute engagement." 

" Never make a promise unless you feel sure that you can 
keep it." 

" If ever you find yourself caught accidentally in a company 
where there is profanity or evil-speaking turn your back upon them 
and flee as for your life ; shun everything evil that it may not mar 
the purity of your own thoughts." 

" If you have a duty to perform, do it without grumbling or 
fuss ; its disagreeableness will quite likely disappear." 

I cannot close these letters without assuring you that if the 
above rules are faithfully adhered to in the spirit of love to Christ 
your lives will be a blessing to the world as well as to yourselves 
even as your grandpapa's has been. He did not wait until he 
became a man before adopting this manner of living. It grew 
with his growth and became a part of his being. When he used 
to visit me in my home and at the village where I taught school 
he never left me without prayer. How precious those memories 
are to me now ! Perhaps you will smile and say, " That was too 
solemn a courtship for me." You mistake ; there was nothing 
solemn about it. That it was serious I admit, but life is serious ; 
and this added a richness and brightness to our hopes and to our 
hearts which knit our lives the closer in Christ. Thus they have 
flowed on ever since they were made one ; and the river of our 
love has been constantly growing deeper and deeper until it 
broadened into a full, clear stream onflowing with its steady cur- 
rent to the end of this life only to be merged into the great eter- 
nity of God's love. 

This united interest in Christ's work and kingdom caused 
us to have the greater interest in each other's duties. His long 
and diligent work on the Congregationalist was for many years my 
work too, for he shared its interests, its perplexities, its delights 



138 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 26. 

with me from the beginning. Never was a step taken or a plan 
considered or a change proposed that he did not confer with me, 
laying it with the reasons therefor carefully before me. If try- 
ing discussions came up or grave questions were to be settled we 
talked them over together, not because I could be of any special 
help to him in settling these things, which I probably was not, 
but he liked to have my unbiased opinions expressed, and often 
said that by freeing his own mind and hearing my views it 
helped him to ' see matters in a new light, and that my unprej- 
udiced thought cleared his own vision. 

In the same way we discussed all household affairs, and no 
matter what topic of anxiety, of care, or pleasure came up it was 
conferred upon with mutual interest. This was our promise to 
each other before our marriage — that we would seek to know 
and understand one another always that we might be the better 
fitted to comfort and share everything together. Can you not see 
how our lives would most naturally glide into the same channel 
until we felt ourselves necessary to each other's happiness ? 

Your grandpapa's earthly part in these mutual interests has 
been completed before mine, and who can say that the remaining 
work left for me to do alone was not this very effort I am making 
to extend to you, my grandchildren, the impress which I hope 
these memorial letters may make upon your lives and character ? 

Your grandpapa has left me in the care of my children and 
grandchildren, and in my lonely hours I shall look to you for com- 
fort till my journey is ended and I, too, shall awake satisfied in 
Christ's likeness. God will prosper and bless the result of these 
precious memories committed to your hearts according to your 
own sincere desire. 

From your bereaved yet not desolate grandmamma, 

Mary J. Richardson. 



THE 



FUNERAL SERVICE 



CHARLES ADDISON RICHARDSON. 



Funeral services over the remains of Charles Addison Rich- 
ardson, the late managing editor of the Co?igregatwnalist, who died 
at Hotel Bellevue, Boston, on Sunday, January i8, were held at 
the First Congregational Church, Chelsea, in which he was a dea- 
con, at 2 P.M. on Wednesday, January 21. The first three pews 
on the right in the body of the church were reserved for members 
of the corps of the Congregatiotialist. Next came the pew lately 
occupied by the deceased, which was trimmed with callas and 
smilax and " sealed " with a broad band of black and white rib- 
bons. The next two pews were reserved for members of the Con- 
gregational Association, while still others were held for employees 
and occupants of the Congregational House, which was closed for 
the day at 12 M. The corps from the office of the Congregation- 
alist included Rev. Morton Dexter ; Rev. A. E. Dunning, D.D. ; 
Rev. H. A. Bridgman ; Miss F. J. Dyer ; Miss H. H. Stanwood ; and 
Miss Ida E. Kittredge. There were also present Rev. Henry A. 
Hazen, D.D. ; J. F. C. Hyde, Esq. ; Rev. C. C. Carpenter; Rev. C. 
L. Woodworth, D.D. ; Rev. J. H. Twombly, D.D. ; Hon. C. C. Coffin ; 
S. E. Bridgman, Esq., of Northampton ; Hon. Rufus S. Frost ; and 
many other Congregational clergy and laity. Nearly all the Chelsea 
pastors were also present. 

The remains were inclosed in a plain black broadcloth cov- 
ered casket with oxidized silver handles. The plate bore simply 
the name, date of birth, and date of death of the deceased. Upon 
the casket were two crossed palms. The pulpit and altar of the 
church were appropriately decorated with calla lilies and potted 
plants. 

The services included : Organ prelude ; invocation and Scrip- 
ture reading by Rev. George E. Lovejoy, of Franklin (the birthplace 
of the deceased) ; addresses by Rev. A. E. Dunning (editor of 
the Congregationalisf), Rev. A. H. Plumb, D.D. (formerly pastor 
of the church where the services where held and now pastor of 
the Walnut Avenue Church of Roxbury), and Rev. Alonzo H. 
Quint, D.D. ; and prayer and benediction by Rev. Lawrence Phelps, 



142 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 

of Gardner, pastor elect of the church. Music was furnished by the 
church quartette, with Dr. Charles D. Underhill organist. The 
selections were, " Art thou weary, art thou languid," " The Lord's 
Prayer," and " Come unto me all ye that are weary." The con- 
gregation also sang " Servant of God, well done." 

The pallbearers were Rev. H. A. Bridgman, of the Congre- 
gationalist ; Mr. John J. Underhill and Mr. Joseph W. Stickney, of 
the First Congregational Society ; Mr. C. L. Whittlesey and Mr. 
Charles A. Phelps, of the American Congregational Association ; 
and Mr. Thomas Todd, representing the other societies in the Con- 
gregational House. 

The interment was at Woodlawn, 



€J)C J^erbice^* 



I. Organ Prelude Dr. Underbill. 



II. Invocation .... Rev. George E. Lovejov. 

We bless thee, O God, for all thy benefits to us. We thank 
thee that in our hour of darkness thou art our light ; that in our 
hours of trouble thou art our refuge, ever near and very precious. 
Therefore at this hour we draw near to thee ; we throw open our 
hearts that thou mayest come into them and fill us with the light 
and with the joy and with that deep, unspeakable peace which 
thou dost give to thine own. 

We thank thee that while this hour is turned today into the 
hour of mourning, we have the abundant consolation of thy spirit 
and thy grace and the higher hope which thou dost give unto us 
from the gospel of thy love. So we would be still and know that 
thou art God, and in the hush of our own hearts would hear thy 
voice speaking to us from thy providence and from the Word of 
Truth. Give unto us that word which our hearts need. Bless us 
in this hour. May every thought of our minds be drawn out and 
centered in thee. Go with us today as we go through our hour 
of trial, for we know that thou art ever our refuge in the time of 
storm, and we will delight to give thee thanks through our Lord. 
Amen. 



THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 143 

III. Chant: "The Lord's Prayer" . . Quartette. 



IV. Scripture Reading .... Rev. Mr. Lovejov. 

I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed 
are the dead who die in the Lord from henceforth. Yea, saith the 
Spirit, that they may rest from their labors ; and their works do 
follow them. 

Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrec- 
tion ; on such the second death hath no power, but they shall be 
priests of God and of Christ, and shall reign with him a thousand 
years. 

Blessed are they that are called unto the marriage supper of 
the Lamb. 

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. 

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the 
ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat 
of the scornful, but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in 
his law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like 
a tree planted by the rivers of waters, that bringeth forth his fruit 
in his season ; his leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he 
doeth shall prosper. 

Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. 

Blessed be the Lord and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the 
Father of mercies and the God of all comfort, who comforteth us 
in all our tribulations that we may be able to comfort them which 
are in any trouble by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are 
comforted of God. 

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not 
worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us. 
Wherefore, seeing that we also are compassed about with so great 
a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin 
which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the 
race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and fin- 
isher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured 
the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand 
of the throne of God. 

For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners 
against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds. 



144 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 

And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto 
you as unto children, My son, despise not thou the chastening of 
the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him. 

For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every 
son whom he receiveth. 

If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons, 
for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not ? 

Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them 
that fear him, for he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that 
we are dust. 

And I saw a new heaven and a new earth : for the first 
heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no 
more sea. . . . And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying. 
Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with 
them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be 
with them and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears 
from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow 
nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain : for the former 
things are passed away. 

And the Spirit and the Bride say. Come. And let him that 
heareth say. Come. And let him that is athirst come. And who- 
soever will, let him take the water of life freely. 

Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may 
have right to the tree of life and may enter in through the gate 
into the city. 

Wherefore comfort ye one another with these words. 



V. Address ..... Rev. Dr. Dunning. 

In behalf of Mr. Richardson's associates I am to speak in 
a few words of the life work of one whose thought has entered 
silently as a moral force into the lives of thousands of people, 
often actively remaining with them until they have passed from 
the hours of promise and resolve and hope to the time when they 
have laid their work down finished or undone. On the one 
hand he introduced during the thirty-five years of his connection 
with the Congregationalist a great number of authors, who had 
something to say to instruct, inspire, and guide the people, to vast 



THE FUNERAL SERVICE. I45 

and varied audiences scattered all over the world. And on the 
other hand he presented to a whole generation, numbered by 
scores of thousands, counsel, warning, hope, encouragement, en- 
tertainment, and instruction ; presented it to them in their private 
meditations in home and school and business and religious and 
social and civic life; presented to them these things so skillfully, 
adding his own word so wisely, that he never served the public 
so well as in the last years of his life ; until, one week ago today, 
he laid aside the manuscript and the pen, and shortly after took 
his brief and silent journey to the rest that remaineth for the 
people of God. 

He took this work as a sacred trust, took it reverently, and 
rejoiced in it as some young people rejoice in their play. He 
took it as a servant of God. On the one hand his correspond- 
ence with authors, preachers, and legislators often developed into 
valued friendship ; on the other hand he knew he was helping 
people in their Christian lives, helping them better to understand 
their duties in their homes and in their business and everywhere, 
and he rejoiced in it. In early life he had to contend with pov- 
erty and, to an extent, with ill health in securing the education 
he had. How often he sent messages of encouragement to young 
men and women who were contending with difficulties such as he 
had had ! In his maturer experience he was sometimes misjudged, 
and endured in silence. How often he furnished counsel to other 
men who had to bear misinterpretation in silence ! 

He had in early life a desire to prepare for the gospel min- 
istry. That privilege was denied him ; but he profoundly be- 
lieved in the gospel proclaimed by prophets, by Jesus Christ, and 
by the apostles. And to what an audience for thirty years he 
presented it, and from what a storehouse did he draw his argu- 
ments and appeals ! 

He had a warm and tender sympathy with men. How often 
has he sent messages of consolation to hearts sore with bereave- 
ment, as ours are today ! Truly this was a successful life of fit- 
ting preparation to that longer service into which he has entered, 
and which has no end. We are not here to mourn ; we are here 
to praise. We miss him more, we that have been closely asso- 
ciated with him, than the public can know; but we congratulate 
him and thank God in his behalf. 



146 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 

It is a splendid thing when a man has lived the life he would 
choose to live, has lived it well, and, so far as those who knew him 
can see, has won the Master's verdict, " Well done, good and 
faithful servant." We who lived with him day by day found his 
companionship delightful, and those who have been with him long- 
est have noted of late how his spirit mellowed and how his kind- 
ness manifested itself more than in other years. We have marked 
often his positive sense of justice, his determination that every one 
who felt that he had been aggrieved or misrepresented in any way 
should have an opportunity to set himself right, while Mr. Richard- 
son was always watchful that the one who had a grievance which 
must be to him so much more than to the general public should 
not weary the readers of a great paper. 

He had a keen sense of humor, and experience never dulled 
the surprise with which he greeted unexpected developments of 
human nature, which have no such field of display as in the cor- 
respondence with a religious newspaper. 

He had great faith in men. He had strong confidence in the 
polity of Congregationalism as adapted to the conditions of this 
country. And how widely he has been able to extend its in- 
fluence ! There is not one of us — and here are many in these 
pews who have every day associated with him — who would not 
lay upon this casket the tribute of affection and respect, which is 
not awakened anew now that we bid him farewell, but which 
would have found as warm an expression on any of the busy week 
days of our lives. We mourn, but there is no bitterness in our 
mourning. We miss him. The remembrance of his presence is 
a shadow, but there is no bitterness in it. It stays with us. It 
will abide with our office a benediction in com.ing years ; and we 
rejoice in our sorrow that his presence is in the Lord's presence 
now, and that he has entered into the Master's joy. 



VI. Selection ...... Quartette. 

Art thou weary, art thou languid ? 

Art thou sore distressed ? 
Come to me, said One, and coming. 

Be at rest. 



THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 1 47 

VII. Address Rev. Dr. Plumb. 

The public career of every strong and true man is largely the 
biography of his inner life. While there are double-minded, false- 
hearted men who live two lives — one at home and in the church 
in their relations, and one before the public — and while there are 
weak men who live inconsistent lives in the two spheres from 
lack of a vigorous controlling purpose, all men of truth, all men 
of power whose virtues are robust and prevailing and consistent, 
are what they are in public, not only consistently with what they 
are at home and in the church, but largely in consequence of what 
they are at home and in the church ; that is, the public career of 
a man, his outgoings before the world in his career, is largely 
the outgrowth of his inner life. And having been led in our reflec- 
tions to consider the public relations of our departed friend, it 
seems proper that we turn to these inner qualities out of which 
the other aspect of his character grew. Is it not the part of a 
devout spirit that at such an hour as this we seek, so far as we 
may, to turn our thoughts away from the especially aggravating 
features of the great bereavement and strive to find consolation 
and instruction in seeing how rich God had made the character 
of this servant whom he has now recalled to himself? We are 
able to say, " The Lord gave, blessed be the name of the Lord." 
Perhaps, also, we shall be able, as we dwell upon what God has 
done by the riches of his bounty and native endowments and by 
the power of divine grace, to say, " The Lord hath taken away, 
blessed be the name of the Lord," rejoicing in the preciousness 
of the days we have had hitherto. 

Now the Lord made our friend to love righteousness. Very 
early in life he manifested as his strong, controlling purpose his 
love of righteousness. His early conversion at the age of fifteen 
years was a strong conversion, bright and clear, one that brought 
him out thoroughly into the happiness of a Christian life. He 
never lived a life of doubt, because he had such an assured con- 
viction that he was accepted of God ; and he so loved righteous- 
ness that it was apparent to himself and the world that he was 
one with God in his purpose. 

The idea of duty, of moral obligation, the force of the moral 
law, the obligation to obey God, the righteousness and justice of 
God's moral government, were all prevailing ideas with him ; and 



148 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 

there were no motives of fear or favor, the desire for esteem or 
the fear of opposition, that would cause him to hesitate a moment 
in regard to any question where the right was made clear to him. 
His great desire was to know the right and then to do it. Now, 
this made him independent of his moods and feelings. He had 
to contend against the depressed moods that sometimes came over 
him ; but he had only to know what God wanted him to do, and 
he went forward to do it whatever his moods were. For instance, 
as the question of church attendance, the question of Sabbath- 
school labor, the question of attendance on and participation in 
the prayer meeting and the practice of family prayer arose, he 
never left these things to the feelings of the moment ; but he had 
a conviction that when God had been so good as to establish 
Christian people in a family they ought never to be numbered 
among the families that call not on his name. And so always 
family prayer held a high place in his household life, and no en- 
gagement or anything would allow him to turn it aside. If the 
hour of leaving home was to be unusually early the family 
worship must be had before breakfast ; and this became a joy to 
him. And so with attendance upon the prayer meeting ; though 
he was modest and sensitive, and never took part in a meeting 
without a sense of responsibility and incompetence, yet he was 
ready to take part from a sense of obligation, and in the end it 
became his delight. 

Thus always duty was his great idea. He had a very great 
contempt for the modern thought that says we must do nothing 
from a sense of duty. He would go forward and do his duty at 
whatever cost ; and joy came to him in that performance. Over 
and over again lately he has enjoyed the prayer meetings espe- 
cially. He would say, " I am very, very weary, but I cannot keep 
away from the prayer meeting, it is so refreshing to me ; it is such 
a rest." And it was a great blessing to him there to perform his 
obligations from a sense of his loyalty to God and his love of 
righteousness — doing right — and then it became a habit with him 
and a great joy. 

Then he was a man of very marked sincerity. When you 
looked him in the eye you felt that there was a man behind there 
of the utmost sincerity and simplicity, and that what he said you 



THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 149 

could depend upon as being the expression of his heart. Now, 
naturally this grows out of the other. When a man is one with 
God, loves God, loves righteousness, he has no interest in hiding 
anything, he wants to know everything, he wants to know the 
exact situation of the case, he confronts the situation openly, 
looks at the facts in the case, and he wants to know everything 
as it is. And so he comes to have a very clear comprehension of 
the situation from this sincere desire to know it. And this trait 
marked very many of our friend's experiences. He was not only 
wholesome in his instincts, so that as a boy he never would re- 
main where conversation was unwholesome in any degree ; he not 
only had this love of righteousness that made him pure as a young 
man, but he had so much of sincerity and such a simple desire to 
know his duty that he did know it in a very great degree. Now, 
this came out very strongly in the sincerity, in the comprehensive- 
ness, and in the propriety of his prayers. As his pastor for many 
years, it was always a wonderful comfort for me to hear him pray, 
to join with him in prayer. I think this grew upon him of late 
years. He seemed to see the situation and know the claims that 
were upon him. When he had finished a prayer it seemed to be 
a relief to us. We said, " There, now, we have opened our hearts 
to the Lord, told him everything, unburdened our souls, and left 
it all with him." He seemed to have such a capacity to see what 
was needed and to lay it before God. He made a great deal of 
prayer. Prayer was a very serious, thoughtful exercise with him. 
In his family prayers he mentioned every individual in the family 
and the guests of the family that might be present, and he laid 
everything before God. It Wcls a wonderful privilege to hear him. 
Many have said, "I remember that Sabbath spent in that family 
and the prayer that I heard as he poured out his heart to God." 
And in view of the contemplated separation which the severe ill- 
ness of his companion had led him to expect — and no one thought 
he was to be called first — he had lately conversed very familiarly 
with her in regard to that separation. Indeed, they had often and 
always talked about these things as they would talk about taking 
a journey. He was willing to look at everything; he never wanted 
to hide anything, but to be in the fear of God, open, sincere, and 
true. And then one other thing let me allude to very briefly. 



150 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 

and that is, his fidelity to every trust — faithful as a Christian, faith- 
ful in the church, faithful as an office bearer, faithful as a friend, 
and in his household relations. Thirty years or more ago when 
I came to Chelsea his was the first hand that was extended to me 
when I came into this church. He met me in Boston, brought 
me here, and took me up to Deacon Taylor's house, where I was 
to spend the Sabbath ; and from that time to this he has never 
been other than the most faithful of friends. As a deacon in the 
church, as superintendent of the Sunday school, and as a laborer 
for Christ he was always faithful. Our brother who has led us 
in the invocation and the reading of the Scriptures, Rev. Mr. 
Lovejoy, will bear witness to the fidelity with which in his occa- 
sional residence in his summer home he has been faithful as a 
Christian worker. Then, how faithful he was in his own circle ! 
Do you not remember how he stood like a man in that hour of 
terrible affliction when his brother, the great war correspondent, 
met with a tragic end ? How we honor the man who never turns 
his back on his country or friend, but who is faithful and true 
whatever may come ! 

And he has had an exceeding tenderness of late. It has 
seemed as if he had been ripening, and there are no words that 
can express the feelings with which his dear ones have looked 
upon him as, in these last days, his tenderness and his truth and 
his affection have poured themselves out. 

Well, dear friends, I read on the door of the Congregationalist, 
" Closed from twelve o'clock today in respect to the memory of the 
editor who has gone." But closed forever will that place be to how 
many of us who have gone in there always to be greeted with his 
calm, mild welcome, his serious and earnest and sincere counsel. 
But the qualities we recall with so much joy today have not died 
at the touch of death. They are imperishable. And as we look 
at the palms upon his casket we know that the hour of victory 
has come, and that if we follow the example of our brother we 
shall meet again. 

I want the congregation to join in singing the 962d hymn. 
When the congregation joined heartily in singing a hymn our 
brother would go home and read it over again, and say how much 
he enjoyed it. Let us sing to the tune of " Olmutz." 



THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 151 

VIII. Hymn Congregation. 

Servant of God, well done, 

Rest from thy loved employ ; 
The battle fought, the victory won, 

Enter thy Master's joy. 



IX. Address Rev. Dr. Quint. 

Since I came here, or rather to the city across the water, 
today, it was suggested to me that, in the order of thought, while 
the first would speak of the official connection in public life and 
work, and our brother who has just spoken would speak of the 
qualities he saw during his pastorate here, it might be proper for 
me to say something about our friend in the light of friendship. 

That I am here today, beloved, at this hour, is a testimony 
to that. I have come hundreds of miles simply to be here at this 
hour, not summoned by any formal invitation ; but they who in 
official relations understood me, I think, while not asking that 
I would come traveling by night these hundreds of miles, knew 
that the flash over the wire which said that he was dead and that 
the service would be at this time today was a summons. And in 
the sleepless hours of the night which I have passed I have 
thought of this hour and of the long years in which I have been 
privileged to enjoy his steady and firm friendship. While I re- 
spected the man and saw his faithfulness, his conscientiousness, 
his patience, his persistence, his thorough integrity, yet, under- 
neath what was often an impassive exterior, I had glimpses now 
and then of the heart that beat within. 

I remember nigh thirty years ago when his importunity suc- 
ceeded in making me begin a series of letters from the smoke and 
canopy of battle which was the beginning of a continuance of 
more or less service in writing. But I recall a little more clearly 
a smaller incident — that a few years ago, in the intervals be- 
tween two pastorates of this church, it was our brother, with others 
to whom he had suggested it, who asked me that I would come 
here for the Friday evening service and the Sunday service 
through some five months while you were procuring a pastor. 
I have thanked God for that service, which has given me so many 



152 THE FUNERAL SERVICE, 

warm friendships liere, so many loving attachments, until some of 
you younger people seem to me almost like children whom cer- 
tainly I love spiritually ; and I was thrown into some understand- 
ing of this man's real heart more than once, and I had that high 
respect which causes me to say today to young men that this life 
was one of the best illustrations of patient continuance in well 
doing year after year — industrious, honest, faithful, upright, con- 
siderate, cautious, sometimes conservative, perhaps more so than 
necessary; but in his position it was necessary to be cautious and 
conservative. But it was one of the best examples of the great 
work accomplished in life by that patient industry which charac- 
terized him, in which there was embodied continually a sense of 
the most perfect obedience possible in human nature to the divine 
law and the most perfect consecration possible in human nature 
to Jesus, the Saviour, by whom he felt he was redeemed. I can 
hardly realize, brothers, sisters, beloved, that he has gone. It is 
getting lonesome. How few weeks ago it was that one in the 
same connection in work passed away in the night ! Now there 
is another one. One afternoon not long ago it was that we were 
here in this house when the first pastor of this church was to be 
buried. One after another passes away ; and to some of us it is 
getting lonesome. We now look to the younger people to come 
forward and take their place. 

I can hardly realize that a little more than two weeks ago 
I was here, standing below there, and the Lord's Supper was ad- 
ministered, and our brother was in his seat, calm and steady of 
purpose, quiet in his manner, just the same as ever. I can hardly 
realize that it was the last time we ever saw each other on the 
face of this earth. I can hardly realize that it was just a little 
while ago up in that house — it was a house of God though not 
consecrated like these walls — that this man and myself exchanged 
words for the last time. He came to me at the close of that 
funeral service and grasped my hand, and his first words were, 
" There is another saint gone home to heaven." Then he spoke 
to me about growing old, and spoke of some particular reminis- 
cences about writing, grasping my hand warmly. He was feeling 
more impulsive than I had ever seen him before. I didn't think 
then that it was the shadow of the coming departure. 

Well, brothers and sisters, this man had a heart. When I was 



THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 153 

going away — it isn't a matter for any public report, and therefore 
it isn't for the newspapers — when I was leaving yesterday after- 
noon my son said to me, " Father, that was the man who was 
supporting my classmate So-and-so in college, everything except 
what his scholarship got for him." Yes, that was so — quiet, 
silent, generous, watchful, thoughtful. I have had some oppor- 
tunities of being in his family, especially over Sunday, and those 
who have been there know what his tenderness there was. They 
know that perfect, Scriptural kind of respect which he bore to 
that aged woman, now ninety-five years old, who is just trembling 
on the verge of eternity this week, perhaps with a premonition 
that she knows not that her son has gone before her. They 
could not tell her, but perhaps she has a sensitiveness which 
knows it, and she is just trembling on the verge waiting to pass 
over. He told me recently of having had the Lord's Supper ad- 
ministered in her room. His regard and his reverence for her 
were just beautiful and perfect. 

Today we are here not to mourn too much. No, it is not 
especially a mourning day. Recently when a festival was to be 
celebrated here, he wrote me in a benevolent, playful vein asking 
me to attend. I said I could not be at the festival. Well, I could 
not ; it was too far away and I had too many preachings. But 
when that telegram announcing his death came it wasn't too 
far off, and I could exchange duties. What the festive occa- 
sion could not do friendship could do. I am losing too many 
friends now not to honor those who pass away. 

Looking forward, why is this life ended ? Well, we say, 
he had finished and rounded out his work. No ; he had fin- 
ished and rounded out a work, and in that work was prepar- 
ing for something beyond. What.'' To sit down and enjoy 
forever? No; to work and enjoy forever. God fits people for 
something, and he is fitting and training them in this life for 
the work which is to go on in the life to come. We do not 
mourn, therefore, too much. We thank God for the example 
of this tender, true life, faithful and devoted in the home, faith- 
ful in the church of the living God, conscientious, strong, mas- 
sive, good — all through Jesus Christ, all through love of the 
Master and the work of the Master whom he reverenced and 
whom he followed. 



154 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 

The first Sunday of the month he was here at the com- 
munion, and now he has gone on to the communion of the 
saints, " one family, above, below." His children, his little ones, 
went on before, some of them years ago. When one of them 
died he put in the Congregationalist one line — " One day with 
the Lord is as a thousand years." That was the epitaph. And 
now he has gone on to an eternity with God. Brother, we love 
you, we esteem you, we shall miss you. Brother, may God make 
our lives as true, as faithful, as devoted, and as Christian, and 
then give us as peaceful a departure and give us as beautiful 
a rest in the splendor of the glorious faith when we are called 
upon to go hence. 

X. Prayer Rev. Dr. Plumb. 

Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, we bow before the 
providence that has called us together. We acknowledge that 
thou determinest the times before appointed and the hours of 
our habitation. We recognize thy right to all thy creatures. 
We mourn not as those who have no hope. We rejoice in the 
consummations of thy word, in the assurance of the divine 
promise that blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. We 
commend unto thee those who are especially bereaved in this 
hour of sorrow. Remember, we entreat thee, thine handmaid, 
the companion of our departed friend. Graciously sustain her. 
Wilt thou very tenderly deal with her and sanctify to her, as 
thou only canst, the great loss which she sustains in the re- 
moval of her beloved, honored, and faithful companion from 
her side. 

Bless the daughters. Strengthen thou them, O Lord, and 
may they be much to their mother, and wilt thou command 
thy blessing especially upon them in the work thou hast given 
them to do. We pray that children and grandchildren, these 
families that are here before thee, these dear ones that look 
up to thee for consolation now, may have thy presence and 
thy grace. We entreat thee that thou wilt show them the power 
of the divine grace and presence. 

We commend to thee thine aged handmaid, the mother of 
our departed friend. Wilt thou very tenderly lead her into her 



THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 1 55 

eternal rest and graciously sanctify to her and to all this circle 
of mourners this unexpected and overwhelming sorrow. We en- 
treat thee in behalf of the church with which our brother was 
long associated that thou wilt sanctify to it thy repeated visi- 
tations ; and grant, O God, that as thou dost take away the 
one on whom they had been accustomed largely to lean for 
counsel and for support thou wilt greatly increase them. 

Bless thou him who comes to assume the charge of this 
people, and wilt thou graciously sustain him and them as they 
shall be united with a sense of bereavement, and help them 
in their common work here. 

We pray for all who have been the especial companions 
in daily intercourse with our departed friend, that thou wilt gra- 
ciously endue them with all needed wisdom. Thou hast brought 
sorrow upon sorrow upon them. We pray that thou wilt min- 
ister to them all needed grace. 

We entreat thee, Heavenly Father, that thou wilt bless all 
who have been associated with him in special relations of one 
kind or another, meeting constantly or frequently. Pour out thy 
spirit upon them today, and may the recollections that come 
to them of their intercourse with this honorable friend, this 
Christian man, be sanctified of God to the building up of 
the Christian life in their hearts. 

We entreat, our Heavenly Father, that thou wilt command 
thy blessing upon all who have been in any way associated 
with our brother, upon all who have come within the sphere 
of his influence, as they have been under his guidance in the 
Sabbath school, as they have heard his voice in prayer or 
counsel in the church, as they have unconsciously come under 
his influence through the paper which has been so largely his 
instrument of endeavor through life. Great God, we pray thee 
that, as thou dost take away sublime, wholesome, and excel- 
lent influences that we honor and that go largely into the up- 
building of our character, thou wilt supply the need. We re- 
joice for those whose work is done, we glorify thee for the 
hopes that sustain us as we think of them with thee, and 
we pray that thou wilt care for thy kingdom here. 

O come unto us, blessed Lord, and be thou unto us more 



156 THE FUNERAL SERVICE, 

than ever, and help us in the testimony of this hour, in the 
impulses given us by the remembrances which throng our hearts 
and bring to us recollections of many sweet seasons of com- 
munion and blessed interchange of fellowship with dear ones 
gone before. O Lord, wilt thou in thy great mercy sanctify 
this hour unto us, come unto us and minister to us the comfort, 
the support, the wisdom that we need. Accept us as we de- 
vote ourselves anew, and help us to look forward to him who 
has said, " I am the resurrection and the life," to the home 
where he shall welcome his children into the mansions pre- 
pared for them from the foundations of the world. And unto 
thee, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, be everlasting praise. 
Amen. 

XI. Selection, " Come unto me " . . . Quartette. 



Closing Prayer and Benediction . . Rev. Mr. Phelps. 

Holy Spirit, look down in infinite tenderness and mercy 
upon U3. Bless us in our bereavement, and sanctify this grief 
by thine own divine gentleness unto those to whom it is so 
grievous. Aid us, O dear Lord, to become more faithful fol- 
lowers of the Lord Jesus Christ because we have been per- 
mitted to see and to know of such faithfulness among thy 
followers. 

And now may the grace and the mercy and the peace of 
Jesus Christ be and abide with each and all of you forever. 
Amen. 




Tablet at the Head of the Grave. 



LIVING WITNESSES. 



5Fn 0^cmotiam» 



C. A. R. January i8, 1891. 



BY MRS. MARGARET E. SANGSTER. 



We knew not when the maples last 
Hung out their banners in the sun, 

That while the golden autumn passed 

The servant neared the Lord's " Well done," 

That soon for him the bells should ring 

In the great city of the King. 

The snowdrifts came, the strong winds blew. 
White winter ruled the frozen land ; 

No winter time that warm heart knew, 
No frost chill in that good right hand, 

And day by day, in work and rest. 

He did with might his honest best. 

But now the desk, the vacant chair, 
The room which seems without him dead, 

The step no longer on the stair. 

The cheery presence missed and fled. 

Echo, as throbbing notes of pain, 

Our hearts' sharp grief in sad refrain. 

Yet, hushing every discontent, 

We thank today the tender love 
That heaven's gentlest angel sent 

To lead him to the home above. 
And peal on peal the sweet bells ring 
From that near city of the King. 



TESTIMONY OF ASSOCIATES. 



Pasadena, January 26, 189 1. 
The news of the death of Mr. Richardson, coming so soon 
after that of Dr. Dexter, has filled me with deep sorrow. I mourn 
him as a tried and valued friend who has always been kind and 
considerate to me. In our relations as partners for so many years 
we never had any differences nor alienations. I have a feeling of 
loneliness when I reflect that I shall never see his face again in 
this world. Often I have thought of his kind thoughtfulness in 
coming to see us start on our journey hither, when he was so busy 
and the news of Dr. Dexter's death had just come to us. . . . 
As in the case of Dr. Dexter, it was almost translation from the 
burdens and cares of earth to the felicities of heaven. He had 
rounded out a full and useful life, and died in the midst of his 
activities. He was spared a long and painful illness, and we feel 
sure that he is gone to be with Him whom he loved and served so 
faithfully and sincerely. We must believe that for him departure 
was " far better." . . . 

W. L. Greene. 



Cambridge, November 11, 1892. 
... It is now more than fifteen years since I was in 
intimate relationship with your husband ; but during the eight 
years in which I was on the editorial staff I was in very intimate 
relations with him, and came to know him well, and to honor and 
esteem him in a very high degree. I have been searching my 
mind for those circumstances, incidents, and details which add 
interest and life to personal recollections, but I do not find them 
— too many years crowded with manifold labors and experiences 
have intervened. I find instead one sharp, full, vivid memory of 
Mr. Richardson as a man and an editor — a memory graven with 
the distinctness of a picture, I may say, upon my heart, and one 



LIVING WITNESSES. l6l 

which I shall carry to my last day. Then, in the life beyond, I 
hope to renew my fellowship with him, and who knows but labor 
also, if there be happy occupation in the hereafter. 

During all the time of my connection with the Congregationalist 
(except when in Dr. Dexter's absences I sat in his chair) I occupied 
a room immediately adjoining Mr. Richardson's and connected 
therewith by a window that rose and fell; so that when the window 
was lifted, as it often was, he and I sat literally face to face and 
were in constant communication. The division of labor and re- 
sponsibility between us was such that we had much in common. 
These conditions naturally brought us closely together. He must 
have come to know me thoroughly, and I certainly came to know 
him thoroughly. I do not know what he thought of me, but I 
know what I thought of him, and I have never changed that 
thought of him. To know him as he was once was to know him 
as he was always — even-fibered, even-balanced, even-tempered; 
self-centered and self-controlled ; a man of convictions, of the 
courage of his convictions, with an open mind and a large heart, 
but with absolute and unswerving fidelity to his duty as he found 
it to be. 

If I were asked to sum up in one expression the character of 
Mr. Richardson I should say, " He was a just man." And yet more 
than that : he did justly, loved mercy, and walked humbly with his 
God. I never doubted that he brought to his daily work at the 
editorial desk the spirit of prayer, and that he conducted his cor- 
respondence and "made up" his pages with as much conscien- 
tiousness and as truly in the fear of God as a minister makes 
pastoral visits or composes a sermon. 

I never knew a man who seemed to me to see as many 
sidts of a subject, or to see them as clearly and fairly, as Mr. 
Richardson. He was the incarnation of candor. No man could 
be more generous to an opponent than he. No man ever wielded 
the tremendous power of the editorial pen more cautiously and 
carefully than he. No man ever wrote the editorial " we " with 
a profounder sense of the responsibility of the post he occupied 
as a leader of public opinion. He would have made an excellent 
judge, and the judicial faculty was prominent and active in all 
his journalistic work. Two things a great journalist must be — 



l62 LIVING WITNESSES. 

he must be all-informed, and he must be all-wise ; and Mr. 
Richardson in both of these respects was great in a large degree. 
Like most of us, his knowledge often failed ; and when it was 
at fault he was always prompt to acknowledge it and firm to 
wait until what was lacking was supplied ; but I never remember 
his fairness and candor failing. He was a man of strong feelings ; 
he thought deliberately, he reasoned accurately, he felt deeply; 
but mere feeling never carried him away ; he was governed by his 
reason and his judgment, and where reason led him and judg- 
'ment planted him there he stood, kindly, considerately, but firmly. 
And I think it almost always proved that he was right. 

In all that I remember of Mr. Richardson I remember nothing 
— no incident, no trait, no word, no look, no act — not one — that 
I should like to forget. His personality as it rises before me is a 
composite portrait of many virtues, and no shadow lies across the 
picture. 

As I looked into his face on the day of his burial the character 
of the man was in the lifeless clay — strength, peace, kindliness, 
good will toward all, conscience and conscientiousness, clearness 
of vision, integrity, uprightness, the consecration of a high service. 
He was a man to whom the greeting, " Well done, good and faith- 
ful servant," fitly came. 

I am glad to have had the opportunity to lay this simple tribute 
against his name. It is hardly a tribute ; it is rather an acknowl- 
edgment — the payment of a debt. I owed him much. And the 
world which read his paper owed him more in return for its profit 
and pleasure than it ever knew. It was a privilege to have known 
him and worked with him, and his memory is a real blessing. 

I am, my dear madam, very sincerely and respectfully. 
Your friend and servant, 

(Rev.) Edward Abbott. 



I could scarcely yet believe that Dr. Dexter is no longer in 
his accustomed place upon the paper, and had barely time to re- 
ceive and answer your husband's tender letter of sympathy, when 
a second word came, and now he too is gone ! I have for many 
years had a very high conception of Mr. Richardson's character 



LIVING WITNESSES. 163 

and work, but this conception becomes more exalted as I look 
upon it as finished and as I hear the testimony of those who have 
continued to be associated with him in his latest years. God's 
seal was upon him as his own child. Many, many times have 
I recollected with great delight our meeting in Prague, in the sum- 
mer of 1880, and the many incidents connected with that oppor- 
tunity which we had to review the past and look forward into 
the future. My life must always be better and fuller and richer 
because of having numbered him as one of my best friends. 

Ellen M. Stone. 



. . . There are two facts in regard to Mr. Richardson which 
impressed me most strongly, and which come most often to my 
mind. One is his unusual conscientiousness. I never knew any- 
one else, so far as I can recall, who endeavored so evidently yet 
unassumingly to be guided by the sense of duty. In small and 
great things alike he had himself under firm control, and he ruled 
himself by his sense of that which he ought to do. But he was 
not austere. He simply made the impression of being loyal to 
a high ideal. 

The other is the fact of the steady ripening, mellowing process 
which went on within him year by year. His interest in his fellow 
men and his appreciation of them enlarged constantly from the 
first. His spirit grew more genial, his sympathies broadened and 
deepened, he grew mentally and spiritually larger, fuller, and richer 
during each year that I knew him. I have heard others allude to 
this fact. Some men seem to attain to a certain level of excel- 
lence and halt there. He kept on rising higher to the last. 

To me there was something truly pathetic in his regret at 
having been unable to acquire a college education. His modesty 
made him slow to realize that in most respects his life was as fruit- 
ful and honorable as it probably could have been if he had gone 
through college. Dartmouth never bestowed her honorary M.A. 
degree more worthily than when she gave it to him, for sound 
Christian learning never had a more loyal advocate and supporter 
than he. 

For more than twelve years we worked within an arm's length 



164 LIVING WITNESSES. 

of each other, and I know, as no one not associated with him thus 
can know, what a diligent, intelligent, consecrated work he did. 
When, after so many years of their fellowship and cooperation, he 
followed my father into the unseen world there seemed to be a 
certain fitness in rfieir going so nearly together, although the sense 
of my personal loss was rendered doubly keen. 

(Rev.) Morton Dexter. 



Before I knew Mr. Richardson personally, or had ever entered 
the office of the Cofigregatio?ialist, I had heard my father speak in 
high -praise of the neatness and order of his desk and the room 
in which he worked. I was urged to make him my model in this 
particular, and when I came on to the paper I saw for myself what 
scrupulous efTort he made to keep things in a presentable condi- 
tion. The fact that the managing editor's desk is the catch-all for 
everything floating into the office made it all the more difficult to 
avoid a cluttered and untidy appearance, and his success in obvi- 
ating this was all the more conspicuous. He never went home at 
night and left anything loose upon his desk. I sometimes thought 
he possessed something of a woman's instinct in this matter. He 
was just as careful about his dress. His clothes were good, and 
he dressed in perfect taste. I particularly liked to see him in one 
of those gray suits which he wore not infrequently in summer. 
With a white stovepipe hat it was especially effective. 

Quickness of movement was another characteristic. When 
we went out to luncheon together, as we did now and then, he 
always took a pace more rapid than that to which I am accus- 
tomed, and I really had to hurry to keep up. He was very alert 
on the street, and knew how to slip in and out between teams and 
pedestrians. He was equally agile in the office in the handling of 
his tools and his manuscripts. His promptness and punctuality 
were noticeable. He met his engagements on the dot. If he were 
going to leave a little earlier than usual he managed so to expe- 
dite things early in the day that he never seemed to be in a hurry 
at the last, but had time enough left to get to the train comfortably. 

Mr. Richardson, better than a great many men, had learned 



LIVING WITNESSES. 165 

how to live in human relationships. In his lifetime he had to deal 
with a vast variety of temperaments. He was thrown into close 
relation with men of different make-up from himself. It always 
fell to him to initiate and carry forward difficult and delicate un- 
dertakings ; to harmonize, to unify, and focalize on definite ends 
the forces concerned in the making of the paper ; but in all his 
intercourse with others, both those in the official circle and the 
larger circle outside, with whom he communicated face to face or 
by correspondence, he was the same courteous Christian gentle- 
man. The passing stranger who dropped in just to get a look at 
the editor of the paper, the unconscious bore who was filching 
away precious moments of a busy day, the correspondents in dif- 
ferent centers with whom Mr. Richardson was in frequent commu- 
nication, the unknown contributor to whom he gave a word of 
commendation or suggestion, or the well-known and usually suc- 
cessful writers to whom he occasionally had to return manuscripts 
with an explanation which required to be carefully phrased — all 
these felt in him this quality of consideration, and indeed of defer- 
ence. It sprang, I think, from a thorough self-control on the one 
hand, and on the other from a genuine humility of spirit. He had 
himself thoroughly in hand, and because he knew his own life, his 
weaknesses, his limitations, the incompleteness of his early train- 
ing, he was all the more anxious to learn from others. Every book 
he read, every man he met, was approached from the point of 
view of what it or he might yield for his personal life and for the 
paper. He and the paper were thus the gainers for every trip he 
took, for every new acquaintance formed. Indeed, I am not sure 
but that the paper took precedence over the claims of his own life. 
His first question was, " What can this experience yield to me for 
the paper.'"' 

Mr. Richardson's mind was of no ordinary mold and caliber. 
His thought may not have ranged far and wide, but every subject 
to which he did apply himself he seized with a bulldog grip. He 
plowed his way often toilsomely into the very vitals of a subject. 
The further I get away from him in time, the more I realize how 
broad and fair a man he was. He looked at a subject from every 
side. This critical and candid attitude made his decisions weighty 
and his judgment influential and much prized by the many who 



I 66 LIVING WITNESSES. 

sought it in countless practical matters. He was a growing man, 
too. He kept up with the times. He discerned, even if he did not 
always approve, the drift of public thought. 

As I sit in his chair day after day, and try to do his work in 
substantially the same ways which he taught me, I find myself 
often asking what he would do in such and such a case, and shap- 
ing my decision by that norm as I am able to discern it. For 
many months it was my ambition simply to carry on the paper 
as he did, to keep it up if possible to the high standards to which 
his years of patient effort had lifted it. Now I am coming to feel 
that I should be false to him and belie the expectations he was 
good enough to repose in me if I did not strive to push out into 
a wider field and carry the paper forward beyond the point where 
it was when he left it. But I am deeply conscious that any suc- 
cess which in the providence of God we may attain will be due 
largely to the fact that we are building on his foundations. And 
conscious as I am that I come far short of his fidelity, his genius, 
and his consecration to the things of Christ, I am sure that my 
work on the paper, be it of long or brief duration, will ever be 
better because of the inspiration of his example, as my life is 
richer for all time because for three years and a half I was 
privileged to have his daily companionship. 

(Rev.) Howard A. Bridgman. 



I wish I knew how suitably to express my appreciation of the 
character and ability of Mr. Richardson, and more particularly my 
sense of obligation to him for the large degree of kindly consider- 
ation which I received at his hands. My acquaintance with him 
previous to becoming his partner was of a general character. 
Brought suddenly into the most intimate business relations, I can 
truthfully say that my admiration and love for his character and 
my confidence in his ability steadily increased day by day to the 
very end. 

Others can speak better than I of his unusual business sagac- 
ity, his remarkable judgment, and his great journalistic ability ; 
but not all know how patient and calm and equable he was, how 



LIVING WITNESSES. 167 

the record of one day was the record of all days whatever the 
pressure and perplexities of business, or how kindly he listened to 
the crude plans of a younger man and a novice, carefully consid- 
ering them and cordially indorsing whatever in them commended 
itself to his judgment. This open-nundedness was a principle with 
him. More than most men he heeded the old adage, " Put your- 
self in his place." His conscientiousness in this direction bore its 
natural fruit; he was progressive and fresh in all his business 
methods, ever ready to accept a new way if in any respect it 
seemed better than the old. Many a time I have been touched 
by the cordial manner with which he would adopt some sug- 
gested modification of old methods ; indeed, it not infrequently 
happened that he was the first to press forward into new paths, 
leading therein the younger men who were associated with him. 
It was always a delight to me to discuss business matters with 
Mr, Richardson, for I knew that his long experience in no way 
committed him to the methods of the past ; rather was it a step- 
ping-stone to something better, and what that better thing might 
be I learned to trust implicitly to his judgment to determine. 
Wisely conservative and equally wisely progressive, an unusual 
combination in any man, but particularly so in one who like Mr. 
Richardson had so long and so successful a professional and 
business record. 

The opportunity of daily contact with such a man is of ines- 
timable value, I count it among my choicest privileges that for 
several years I was admitted to his confidence and came within 
the influence of one of the most consistent Christian lives I have 
ever known. 

Wm, F. Whittemore. 



Mr, Richardson's life and example are a priceless legacy to 
all who knew and honored him. Even as I write his calm, decided 
face comes before me as I saw it many years bending over the 
desk where his best work was done. His written words, tempered 
by wise judgment and weighed in the balance of justice, were 
given to the public as the conscientious convictions of his un- 
prejudiced mind. While I want to recognize the Christian integ- 



1 68 LIVING WITNESSES. 

rity which made him a power in the church and a trustworthy citi- 
zen, and the kind hospitality which was felt by all who entered 
his home, I think my lasting remembrance of Mr. Richardson will 
be of his unflinching faithfulness to what he believed was right. 
A just man; and the memory of such an one is blessed I recall' 
an incident which impressed me greatly at the time. Quite an 
animated discussion was being held in the office of the Congrega- 
tionallst in regard to a petition for pardon of a prominent defaulter. 
To the remark, " The man is not getting half his deserts by serv- 
ing his whole sentence," Mr. Richardson said in a firm, almost 
stern voice, facing the speaker, " You have no right, no right, to say 

such a thing. Mr. has expressed his repentance, is trying to 

live it under prison walls, and his honor is a matter between him- 
self and his God. No human being has a right to question his 
sincerity or the wisdom of giving him another chance in the 
world." Well may his grandchildren revere the memory of him 
who has left the records of such a life for them to emulate. Their 
pictured faces which hung near his desk were a constant delight to 
him. Upon the lad who bears the name of his grandfather may 
the mantle of his eminent virtues descend. I am glad I knew him, 
glad I was so long associated with him in his work the last years 
of his life. The influence of those years will abide forever. It 
seems as if he must know just how sincerely we all mourn for and 
miss him. The office can never seem as it used to, but I think his 
influence is felt every day as we go on with the work. We were 
privileged to be associated with him. God grant we may strive to 
be as true and noble in our aims as he was, and so realize some- 
thing of what he accomplished. 

H. H. Stanwood. 



I have seldom been more surprised than I was day before 
yesterday by the receipt from Mr. Ray, your associate executor, of 
a check in payment of the legacy to this society of our dear friend 
who lately left us so suddenly for his eternal rest. Not that there 
was anything strange or unexpected in the legacy. All his active 
life he has been most deeply and warmly interested in the work of 



LIVING WITNESSES. 169 

this society, and has been showing that interest in every jDractical 
way. The use of his time, his personal influence, his offerings, 
his facile pen, have always been ready at the society's slightest 
demand, and that the cause has had a very large place in his 
prayer no one who knew him could for a moment doubt. It was 
just like him to prepare before his departure for the cause that 
had all his life lain upon his heart. My surprise was at receiving 
so soon afterward this token of his unfailing love. I remember 
certainly only one other instance since my connection with the 
society in which such immediate payment of the legacy was made. 
I cannot help feeling that a special blessing will go with it to those 
who receive this last gift of our friend's love, I trust that you are 
enabled to look away from all this present suffering, and to think 
of him as released from everything that hinders the best progress of 
the soul and entered upon that world where everything is helpful, 
where every heart is full of joyful love, and where, best of all, all 
that is purest and holiest and most satisfying is in possession, 
not for a few brief years, but for eternity. . . . 

(Rev.) a. H. Clapp, 

Treasurer A. H. M. Society. 



I cannot tell you how shocked and saddened I was this morn- 
ing at the telegram announcing your husband's death. There has 
been a great load of sorrow on my heart all day. The thought of 
seeing Mr. Richardson was always one of the attractions to me 
of a visit East, and it certainly had not occurred to me more than 
it had to those associated with him at Boston that he could be so 
suddenly taken from us. Personally I feel as if I had met with 
a great loss, as if another tie to this world had been severed, an- 
other honored and beloved friend translated to heaven. I do not 
think any man on the paper could be missed more, or that any 
man has had so great a part as he in making it what it has now 
become, the leading religious journal of the United States. He 
has done a noble work, has served his generation most efficiently, 
and has gone to a blessed reward. Our ministers, in their meeting 
this morning, by vote requested me to express to you and the family 
of Mr. Richardson their heartfelt sympathy in this bereavement. 

(Rev.) E. F. Williams. 



lyo LIVING WITNESSES. 

Mr. Richardson was a good friend to nie I felt, and I have 
always a warm place in my thoughts for you both, I think of him 
as he used to look in his office at the rooms of the Congregation- 
nlist, and as I occasionally saw him in his home. He has left a 
monument to his memory in the Congregationalist. The large part 
he had in making it what it has become is well known to many, 
and to none more than to those who have been associated in work 
with him upon it from time to time. 

Frank T. Lee. 



Lansingburg, N.Y., February 12, 1891. 
I had a strong impulse to tell you how deeply I sympathize 
with you in your great loss, and how keenly for my own part I 
shall always miss this true friend. More than thirty years ago 
I had the happiness to become acquainted with Mr. Richard- 
son, who through the columns of his widely known paper intro- 
duced me — a struggling young author — to the public. I well 
remember the kindliness with which he received my first crude 
efforts, and the words of appreciation and encouragement which 
in his busy and unselfish life he always found time to say. All my 
relations with him were delightful. From the first I had the most 
instinctive confidence in him, and he never disappointed me. His 
letters, extending over many years, are among my most cherished 
possessions. His words of kindly advice and generous recognition 
were always an inspiration to me, while I look back with growing 
wonder upon his wise patience with the callow flights that must so 
sorely have tried him. Only as late as January 10 the last one 
came, which I shall always treasure for its especial warmth of ex- 
pression and friendly interest. With his death and that of Dr. 
Dexter ends all my personal acquaintance with editors of the Con- 
gregationalist, and I feel that a very pleasant chapter in my life is 
closed. I never but once had the pleasure of meeting him face to 
face. It was some years ago, as I was passing through Boston, that 
he welcomed me to his charming home, and I shall never forget his 
fine courtesy and hospitality on that occasion. As I remember 
him, an atmosphere of sincerity, honor, kindliness, spirituality 
seemed to fairly radiate from his person. One could not help 



LIVING WITNESSES. 17I 

feeling that he was so thoroughly filled with the spirit of his 
Master that, like the saint of old, he must have received that 
higher baptism so beautifully described as being " immersed in 
Deity." 

With grateful recognition of the privilege of having called 
such a man my friend, I count it an honor to lay this little flower 
of memory at his feet. 

Lynde Palmer. 



Norwich, Conn., January 20, 1891. 

Mr. Richardson was always so kind to me and interested in 
me in such a friendly way that I must tell you what an abiding 
place he possesses in my respect and in my affection. He was 
always so just, and at the same time charitable, that I always 
felt peculiarly attracted toward him, I like just men ; and I mean 
by this not merely men who do right themselves but who estimate 
truly the acts of others. It makes me sad to think that next sum- 
mer when I spend a few weeks in the office Mr. Richardson will 
not be there, as he was when I was in the office before, to help 
me do my best. But his presence can never be really lacking 
there, because the Congt-egatumalist itself is a continual reminder, 
and always will be, of him and of the noble, self-forgetting, untir- 
ing work of his life. 

I did not know him as long as some others, but I was with 
him long enough clearly to recognize in him a man of strong char- 
acter and rare lovableness. As you know, I commenced my work 
at the Congregationalist office under a certain disadvantage, because 
I was simply a substitute. But he did not allow me to feel that 
my position was less important than a more permanent one, and 
liis thoughtful encouragement helped me to do my work acceptably. 
It is one of my pleasantest reflect ons that I was able to win his 
friendship and esteen), since I feel that his esteem was well worth 
taking pride in. 

Some of his qualities as the manager of a great paper made 
a deep impression on my mind. Even on busy days and in the 
midst of annoying interruptions he always preserved a calm self- 
control. He was patient with the large variety of what I may 
well call cranks who made their way into the office on all sorts of 



172 LIVING WITNESSES. 

errands. In preparing opinions for publication in the paper he 
seemed anxious that they should be just to all. Then I am sure 
he had a broad charity for those who differed with him in politics, 
and on theological questions as well. I remember he much pre- 
ferred the Tribune to the New York Evening Post ; but he did not 
object to me because my preference was not the same. Then, 
too, he was open-minded, ready to learn new facts and so to 
modify previously formed and long-cherished opinions. It is for 
such reasons as these that I shall always revere his memory and 
be glad that I knew him and received his help and his guidance 
for even a few months. . . . 

(Prof.) Henry E. Bourne. 



Boston, February 12, 1891. 
For thirty-five years we have been together, day by day, and 
none now here can testify from so long knowledge as I of the 
great worth of your husband. And when I remember that it was 
his words that turned my thoughts toward my responsibility to 
God and my need of salvation, I am filled with more gratitude 
than ever that I was permitted to know him. 

Thomas Todd. 



Boston, January ig, i8gi. 
I was greatly shocked to hear of Mr. Richardson's death this 
morning. I remember so pleasantly my only chat with him in the 
office of the Congregationalist, and what an impression of real and 
genuine kindliness and helpfulness it made upon me. It is hard 
to understand that his work can have been so soon finished. 

Lucy Wheelock, 

Editor '■^Primary S. S. Notes." 



IN remembrance of C. a. RICHARDSON. 

At a special meeting of the directors of the American Con- 
gregational Association, held May 18, 1891, the committee upon 
action as to the death of the late C. A. Richardson reported the 
following minute : 

The directors are again called upon to record the decease of one 



LIVING WITNESSES. 173 

of the members of this board, Mr. Charles A. Richardson — an event of 
heightened sadness from its following so soon the loss of his and our 
associate, Rev. Dr. Dexter. It is a noticeable fact that two of the board 
should die while in the same year of office. It is still more remarkable 
that Mr. Richardson should have followed into the heavenly life, but two 
months later, his associate of many years' standing in their own great 
life work here. The directors, while called again to mourning, are again 
able to bear unfeigned testimony to the ability and worth of a departed 
associate. Mr. Richardson had been for the past twenty years a mem- 
ber of the Association, and for the past five years one of the directors. 
In this office he had exhibited his characteristics of conscientious faith- 
fulness to his trust, singularly patient consideration, far-sighted business 
knowledge, and steady calmness in decision. He was tlius a most val- 
uable member of the board, and his loss will be deeply felt. There will 
remain also the memory of his Christian uprightness and the generous 
qualities of his heart. 

(Rev.) a. H. Quint, 

E. D. Studley, 

Coinniittee. 



Resolutions from the Ministers of the Missionary Committee of the ConsJ^res^a- 
tional Sunday-School and Publishing Society. 

The committee desire to record the sense of their personal 
and official loss in the sudden death of Mr. Charles A. Richardson, 
their associate of years in this work. 

They remember his presence with them up to the last meeting 
of the committee, recalling his faithfulness in attendance and his 
earnest attention to the matters in consideration, his careful pru- 
dence and his wise judgment. 

They recognize gratefully his years of valuable service in this 
Society, as in many other connections, and they enter into sym- 
pathy with the mingled griefs and hopes of those who miss him 

from the home. 

(Rev.) G. M, Boynton, 

February g, i8gi. Secretary. 



Chelsea, January 31, 1891. 
Your letter of January 29 was received and read to the church 
when gathered at the social meeting for prayer last evening, and 



174 



LIVING WITNESSES. 



all hearts were stirred with a quick response to your words of 
Christian love for this church of which Mr. Richardson was long 
a loved and honored member. No tribute of love and respect that 
we could offer can fully express the gratitude we feel for what he 
has been to this church nor the sorrow for the loss we have met. 
The necessity for a change of residence which removed him from 
regular attendance upon our church services was profoundly re- 
gretted by this people, who had so often seen his cheerful accept- 
ance of positions of trust, the duties of which were discharged 
with the strictest fidelity, showing his first thought to be, " Where 
am I most needed } " " Where can I do the most good ? " While 
we missed his wise counsels, his kind and generous sympathy, we 
felt by his frequent returns to his accustomed place in the house 
of God that his interest lingered with us and that his prayers con- 
tinued in our behalf. Now that God has removed him from our 
earthly sight we can gather up the lessons he daily taught us by 
his Christian life. None know better than we that he honored the 
gospel and cherished the Christian doctrines with a devout and 
steadfast purpose ; none knew better than his fellow workers in 
this church, in times of prosperity or discouragement, his ability as 
a leader, his clearness of thought, promptness of decision, and 
patience in trial, as well as the sympathy which made him genial 
in social intercourse. We praise God for the influence which he 
had in shaping the life of this church and Sabbath school, for his 
unhesitating faith which still honors the Master and gives strength 
to the disciples. Our prayer is that you may find comfort in these 
words : " Thine eye shall see the King in his beauty and shall 
behold the land that is afar off. The inhabitants shall not say, 
I am sick. The people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their 
iniquities." 

Resolved, that the foregoing be tendered by the church to 
Mrs. Richardson as a feeble expression of the love we cherished 
for him and the sincere sympathy we feel for her and the entire 
family. 

In behalf of the church, 

J. W. Stickney, 
H. H. Henry, 

Cof/imiUee. 



LIVING WITNESSES. I75 

Hartford, Conn., January 19, 1891. 

I am surprised and pained at the intelligence which comes in 
the morning papers of the sudden departure from your circle of my 
friend, Mr. Richardson. He seemed an inseparable part of your 
establishment. As long as I have known anything personally of 
your office, he has been there — always busy, but always courteous, 
affable, ready to hear, cautious to speak — a thoroughly good man 
in a place demanding tact, wisdom, and skill. 

This second unexpected break in your companionship within 
a few weieks must bring the sense of uncertainty with which we can 
any of us plan far ahead in this changing world very distinctly home 
to you. It is interesting to note, however, that there grows up a 
kind of corporate character in connection with every considerable 
institution — like a church, or a college, or a newspaper — which is 
slow in suffering change. So that though Dr. Dexter and Mr. 
Richardson have so soon followed each other, I look to see their 
work abide and perpetuate itself, though their skillful hands lay 
the burden off on younger ones. 

(Rev.) George Leon Walker, 

Pastor First Church. 



^ Portland, Me., September 7, 1892. 

I can hardly write a word about your husband without making 
all 1 say personal. Mr. Richardson was the teacher who inspired 
me in my boyhood school life. His enthusiasm aroused me, his 
thoroughness kept me at work, and his appreciation of my work 
made it a delight. 

As one of his pupils Mr. Richardson never lost sight of me. 
When he entered upon his life work as an editor he held fast the 
friends that he made in the Montague schools. Any matters of 
interest concerning them which were of importance enough to find 
a place in the Congregationalist were always sure to be found there. 
Distance seemed only to make him more careful to maintain the 
old friendship, and for that reason, among others, did Mr. Richard- 
son and his paper do me many a good turn as a missionary and 
missionary superintendent in Kansas. 

Difference in views did not estrange him from those whom he 



176 LIVING WITNESSES. 

had come to call friends. He knew that as the years went by we 
did not look alike upon the questions which were agitating our 
Congregational churches, but none the less was his hospitable home 
always wide open with a hearty welcome, and he had a ready, helping 
hand in the many ways that a man in his position can use when he 
is disposed to be of help to his friends. 

I always knew that he believed with all his heart and with a 
firmness that would have taken him to the stake those things which 
after mature deliberation he had come to accept, and yet so large a 
man was he that none the less he could cling to friends who could 
not agree with him. 

Mr. Richardson was one of my very few lifelong friends, I 
might say my only one among the men I have loved and known for 
forty years, outside my own kin. 

His abiding interest in my welfare, and patient helpfulness in 
making my life successful I can never forget. I have always ad- 
mired him for his mental and spiritual strength. I miss him more 
and more in those places where I always expected to find him and 
at the times when he was always glad to serve me. It is a pleasure, 
however, to feel that although he has gone one who sympathized 
with him fully still remains to be, as she has always been, a true 
friend to her husband's friends, and like him always ready to make 
her friendship known by word and deed. 

(Rev.) J. G. Merrill, 

Pastor Second Parish Church. 



Waterville, Maine, January 23, i8gi. 
Alas ! To whom shall I speak my sorrow ! For ten years past 
the Congregationalist has been to me embodied in the person of 
Charles A. Richardson and Dr. Dexter. But with the former, 
whose sudden departure is a personal grief indeed, I have had fre- 
quent correspondence, until I have learned to love him most 
cordially. Of one thing I never had a doubt, viz., that I should 
receive the utmost courtesy, and that whether he thought as I did 
or not his reasons would be frankly and kindly stated, so that 
I should only respect him the more for differing from me. 



LIVING WITNESSES. 177 

How swiftly fall the blows ! And how deep the wounds they 
leave ! And four days seem so short for one to put his house in 
order ; unless, as I am readily willing to believe was the case with 
our dear brother Richardson, his house was always ready for his 
Master's inspection, and his kindly spirit well prepared for the great 
reception to which he has been so quickly summoned. His memory 
is tender, and many a man who seldom saw his face in ihe flesh 
loved him as a true friend and a brother. I am sad tonight ; but 
he, our brother, what congratulations are his due ! for he has entered 
into the company of those who " rest from their labors and their 
works do follow them." Who next ? God comfort his family, 
whom I do not know, but for whom I would esteem it a stranger's 
privilege to express sympathy. 

(Rev.) L. H. Hallock. 



RoxBURY, September 13, 189 1. 

Your reference to Mr. Richardson's views, such matters recall 
the fact that he has done very much, both by his personal acts and 
by his influence in the paper, to make a public sentiment favorable 
to generous, honorable dealing with ministers. We never shall 
know how much and what various good he has done. 

Professor Park told me when I first knew your husband that 
Mr. Richardson had a position of very great influence and respon- 
sibility, and it has been pleasant to think that he seemed himself 
fully to realize it and to make conscientious endeavor to meet its 
high requirements. I cannot tell you how many expressions have 
come to me from various quarters earnestly eulogizing his char- 
acter and work. 

(Rev.) a. H. Plumb, 

Pastor Walnut Avenue CJuirch. 



East Orange, N. J., January 14, 1893. 

Mr. Richardson was conscience incarnate. I have never 

known a man with a more sensitive Christian conscience than 

he had ; and I do not know of anything that it is more desirable 

for young people to have than that. He carried his conscience 



178 LIVING WITNESSES. 

into everything that he did. I saw him in his business, in his 
church, and in his home. He was strong and true in them all. 
I knew him as a Christian. He had a beautiful faith — tender, 
deep, and satisfying. He was my trusted adviser on the church 
committee, and his counsel was of great value to me. Mr. 
Richardson made a great success with his paper. I used to tell 
him that I could see him even in the advertisements. He left the 
impress of his character everywhere. If God had called him to 
even greater responsibility in public life he would have been a 
distinguished success. 

One of the most beautiful things about him was his devotion 
to his aged mother. Such love and care, I hope, are not uncom- 
mon ; but I have seen very few men in my lifetime who seemed to 
me at once so tender and so true. His character is a rich legacy 
to his kindred and to the world. He was one of the best exam- 
ples of the modern Puritan — the ideal New Englander — I have 
ever known, pure in his thoughts, pure in his habits, pure in his 
heart, and with this a strength of mind, a soundness of judgment, 
that gave him great influence with all who knew him. Mr. Richard- 
son was not known as a leader. He was not often heard in public. 
He did not write much over his own name. But he was the natural 
counselor of many whose success was due, in no small degree, to 
his caution and his advice. 

I am glad it was my lot to know him as a man, as a Chris- 
tian. I am happy to give my tribute of love and honor to his 
memory. 

(Rev.) Fritz W. Baldwin, 

Pastor Trinity Church. 



Chicago, January 19, 189 1. 
I cannot write about Charles today. I cannot bring myself to 
think that I am not to see him again. He was associated with all 
my Boston experience ; he was almost the first one I thought of 
when I went to Boston. I looked to him for advice and help on 
many points, and never looked in vain. What he was to me I can 
never tell. How can he be spared from the Congregationalist 1 
Dr. Gilbert and Dr. Williams both said this morning that the 



LIVING WITNESSES. 179 

power of the paper was clue to him fully as much as to any one 
else, and I am sure this is true. 

How strange that he who seemed so well when I last saw him 
should have gone before Aunt Harriet who has been so long wait- 
ing for her summons. But God makes no mistakes. I have had 
to say this many times of late ; it is a real comfort to be able to 
say it and feel it too. I wrote Charles a few words after Dr. 
Dexter's death, and I had wondered why I did not hear from 
him, as he scarcely ever failed to reply to such letters from me. 
I cannot write connectedly today, but such as it is I send it, with 
my sincere prayers. May God help you, once more I pray. 

(Rev.) E. a, Adams, 

Superintendent Bohetnian Mission. 



Danvers, January 22, 1891. 
I have been very greatly pained by the news of your hus- 
band's death. I have known him well for many years. There 
was a period during which I did a considerable amount of editorial 
writing for the Congregationalist, and I saw him then very often — 
in some cases for months together nearly every day. I have been 
associated with him also upon committees and managing boards 
of benevolent societies. And I have been in the habit of calling 
upon frequent occasions at his office. It seems not possible to 
think that he is no more to be there ! I have had for him through 
all these years a high and increasing regard and a strengthening 
friendship. To a remarkable degree he was a man of a steady and 
well-balanced mind and of a safe, practical judgment. It would 
be difficult to speak too strongly upon this point. I have seldom 
known any man whose forecast concerning crises of action was 
more sure to be justified by the event itself. He was a man also 
comfortable to counsel with and to have any dealings with. With 
clear views of his own, he was always willing to weigh the opinions 
of others and to make concessions to others within the bounds of 
reason. He was greatly disposed to fair dealing with every one ; 
and of his carefulness in this matter I have many recollections. 
He was in all respects, also, a thoughtful and safe friend, even to 



ISO LIVING WITNESSES. 

one outside the circle of his own relationships, as I have been. 
His removal brings a most deep and painful sense of bereavement 
and loss. I am only too well aware this does not deserve to be 
spoken of in comparison with the sorrow that comes upon you and 
upon the other members of his household. And yet you will 
allow me, I am sure, to speak of the sense I have of personal loss, 
which is indeed great, and which enables me at least to form some 
measure of the heavier grief which has befallen you. I hope you 
will feel assured of the most heartfelt sympathy that is felt for you 
by the wide circle of friends to whom Mr. Richardson was true 
and by whom he was honored and loved. A few days after Dr. 
Dexter's death I was speaking with Mr. Richardson respecting 
him, and he said, " I rather think you knew more of Dr. Dexter 
and knew him better than any one about here, outside the office, 
except Dr. Quint." I think this may have been true, and I think 
it very likely that something not very different might be true as to 
my acquaintance with Mr. Richardson himself, so far as concerns 
neighboring ministers. All my recollections of Mr. Richardson in 
all my relations with him are altogether and exceedingly pleasant, 
and I shall miss the seeing him more than I can express. 

(Rev.) C. B. Rice. 



Birmingham, Ala., January 27, 1892. 

My first Boston mail, which has reached me today, has brought 
me the painful account of Mr. Richardson's death. It seems im- 
possible. Why, the last face I saw and the last voice I heard as I 
left Boston were his as he kindly bade me a hearty and pleasant 
farewell and expressed cordial washes for my safe return. I can- 
not tell you what a sincere and helpful friend Mr. Richardson has 
been to me since I came to Boston. I knew him only a little be- 
fore that. He has been such a very, very helpful and cordial 
friend in so many ways. His advice has always been of great 
value, and I have come to run in more and more to his office for 
a word of counsel when in doubt how to act. 

I do not need to tell of these kindnesses, many and gener- 
ous ; they are known to those who knew him. I only add my 
tribute to the many others — only words spoken when the friend 



LIVING WITNESSES. l8l 

has gone and cannot hear them. But his life of earnest Christian 
service remains, and we cannot but rejoice in its large and grand 
result. 

(Rev.) C. J. Ryder, 

Secretary A. M. A. 



Winter Park, Fla., January 30, 1892. 
He has been so stanch and firm and even that I am sur- 
prised at his going so early. But he has had a life of constant 
pressure and strain. The load has been heavy, though he has 
carried it evenly and steadily. I was drawn to Mr. Richardson 
very much last winter. His being here was a Christian comfort 
to me. He was a kind of friendly blessing, which one from the 
outside, if he knows how, can bring into one's church and pastor- 
ate and personal life. The going away from Boston and from 
earth seems to make Boston and the earth so much poorer. He 
will be a great loss to the Congregationalist and to the denomina- 
tion and to the church of Christ in this world. He was a steady, 
firm hand and a genuine soul at a great influential center. 

E. P. Hooker, 



Syracuse, January 19, 189 1. 
I had the pleasantest friendship with Mr, Richardson, dating 
back beyond the year when I visited with you and preached at the 
First Church. In my work for the paper he was always extremely 
considerate and appreciative. It was within three weeks that he 
sent me a very kind message encouraging me to write more. 

(Rev.) E. N. Packard, 

Pastor Plymouth Church. 



Reading, January 22, 1891. 

I ought to let you know that I am not unconscious of personal 

loss nor indifferent to the blessings which have come to me through 

the life of one who was so much to his own family, and was able 

also to overflow so generously in thoughtful and kindly acts for the 



l82 LIVING WITNESSES. 

good of Others. The memories of twenty five years and more, 
since his name and work and the initials which I used to look for 
in the paper came to be household words with us, are fragrant 
with them. And then, in addition to all the good and true words 
spoken yesterday, let me add my testimony to the helpfulness of 
his life to mine in that it grew so symmetrically and beautifully, 
culminating in such a rounded life, and then, ripening just a little, 
passed on. His promptness, steadiness of purpose, calmness, and 
natural patience as it seemed, will help me to live more truly and 
helpfully to others. 

(Rev.) Frank S. Adams. 



Auburn, N. Y., February 24, 1891. 
I cannot realize that he has so soon followed Dr. Dexter. 
Faith sees them both on the other side. What the loss is to you in 
Mr, Richardson's departure only you can know. But the rest of us 
know what our share is. I realize that I have lost one of the most 
faithful friends I ever had. Some of his plans will be forever un- 
finished. I do not recall a more thoroughly upright, conscientious, 
true-hearted man. His memory is everything you could wish, and 
his great public work was well done. " Enter thou into the joy 
of thy Lord," Believe me to remember the hospitable home which 
is broken upon earth, but which is to be re-formed across the river. 

(Rev.) a. H. Quint. 



Germantown, February, 1891. 

We can hardly tell you of the bewildering surprise that came 
to both Mrs. Nason and myself when, away, we caught the news of 
the great change that had come to you and your household circle 
in the translation of that good man, your husband, and our and 
everybody's friend. 

Mr. Richardson was to me one of that sterling cast who, first 
known to command our respect, drew forth, as the inner gold was 
revealed, our admiration and love. Not only was he the " righteous 



LIVING WITNESSES. 183 

man" of whom the apostle speaks, but the "good man" as well. 
You could have no richer memory as towards the past, no more 
radiant hope as towards the future, than has been given you of God 
in him, your heart's treasure. Indeed the cloud has come, but 
I always recall the words of one placed as you are now, " Yes, 
but there is comfort even in a cloud that receives our blessed Lord 
from sight." 

How many will miss his warm and unabating ministry of 
labor. Entered now into the rest that abides. And for yourself — 
some waiting — what the Lord has still for you to do — patient con- 
tinuance — and then the golden summer of that other, reunited, 
unending life. 

(Rev.) C. p. H. Nason. 



Franklin, January i8, 1891. 
I knew the dear, noble man only to love him and to regard 
him with what was equivalent to a filial affection. For during my 
ministry here over this church of his childhood he has expressed 
such a tender, affectionate interest in me and my work that my soul 
has been strongly drawn to him. I have prized his counsels, and 
was always benefited by being in his society. His life was a con- 
stant exemplification of the highest type of Christian manliness ; 
and his influence was satisfactory for good in every sphere of life 
in which he moved. Even amid the bewildering mazes of the 
providence that has taken him away, there comes the thought that 
the city of our God needs such true servants of Christ, or the trans- 
fer from this world, where to us he seemed so much needed, would 
not have been made. 

He taketh, that we may forever keep ! 

All that makes life most beautiful and deep. 

Our dearest hopes by sorrows glorified 

Beneath his everlasting wings abide; 

For O ! it is our one true need to find 

Earth's vanished bliss in heavenly glory shrined. 

(Rev.) George E. Lovejoy. 



184 LIVING WITNESSES. 

Westfield, January 25, 1891. 
The wide circle of those who have known your companion are 
indeed mourners. He was one of the truest of the true ; he was one 
of the purest of the pure ; and in that form of strife whicli is most 
honorable, striviiig for the right, he was the bravest of the brave. 
While none can suffer as you suffer, while none can feel the 
loss that you feel, yet the loss to others is great. His death 
must be felt by that wide circle of readers who have witnessed the 
growth and enjoyed the reading of that paper which so steadily 
grew inside his hand. He must be sadly missed by the many 
coworkers who knew and admired his singleness of purpose and 
the untiring devotion that marked his Christian life. His loss to 
the Westfield Normal School is very great. By public service and 
by private effort, as opportunity occurred, he ministered to its wel- 
fare. His unreserved loyalty to the school deeply impressed me 
in all his painstaking but glad endeavor at the semi-centennial of 
1889. It is now pleasant to recall his expressions of satisfaction 
at the result. Of his character it is needless that I speak to you. 
That character unmistakably allied him to the good men of this 
world, and has surely enrolled him in the number of those who 
stand near the throne. May He with whom he walked in close com- 
panionship minister to you in all the fullness of his love. 

J. C. Greenough, 

Principal A^ormal School. 



RoxBURY, January 24, 1891. 
On opening a newspaper of last Tuesday I am greatly shocked 
to find in it the death of Mr. Richardson, your husband, one of 
Boston's most esteemed and honored citizens — a gentleman whose 
kind hospitality I shall never forget. 

(Prof.) Henri Morand. 



Mv recollections of that dear friend, 

CHARLES A. RICHARDSON. 

I first saw Mr. Richardson at a teachers' institute in Medway 
Village, in March, 1850. At this gathering he listened to the lec- 
tures by Dana P. Colburn and Richard Edwards, who at that time 



LIVING WITNESSES. 185 

were teachers in the Bridgewater Normal School. Mr. Richardson 
was so impressed with the superior method of their teaching that 
he at once conceived a strong desire to profit by the instruction 
given at that famous institution. I was then a young teacher, 
about to take charge of a graded grammar school with some high 
school studies, as the successor of a Westfield normal graduate. 
I felt keenly my want of a normal training, and this acquaintance, 
then first begun with a young man who, though a graduate of one 
normal school, was desirous to take an advanced course in another, 
was stimulating to me and gave me at once a profound respect for 
him. I saw that he had a laudable ambition and decided strength 
of purpose. 

After that I met Mr. Richardson from time to time, and the 
acquaintance ripened into strong friendship. He soon showed 
how much wiser he was than I by leaving the role of schoolmaster 
and turning into the channels of business, while I kept on in the 
schoolroom. But he was a teacher, and a skillful teacher, all his 
life. . . . 

His connection with the Congregationalist was a divine prov- 
idence. He possessed traits of mind and heart, inclinations, and 
predilections which brought to him unusual success in the great 
variety of duties which came to him in editing such a paper. 
These qualities, on the other hand, were such as to make those 
duties particularly agreeable to him. 

1. First and foremost he was a Christian, and his life's de- 
sire was to serve the Lord and do good in the world. As editor 
of a great denominational paper he found an ample field. 

2. He was a Congregational Puritan, 

3. He was an intelligent, scholarly man. 

4. He had great industry. He was an indefatigable worker. 

5. He was patient and persevering. His evenness and 
steadiness of character, his persistent purpose and constant good 
judgment, both of men and subjects, knew no bounds. 

It is of these latter qualities that I wish specially to speak : 

He was ah excellent judge of persons. Kindly and confiding, 

he won friends, yet he was a keen critic. He could see through 

gauze and tinsel ; he detected putty and varnish ; but with apparent 

intuition he recognized worth and talent. All his life he was 



l86 LIVING VVriNESSES. 

constantly discovering and bringing to notice young authors of 
character and ability. His judgment of articles for his paper was 
excellent, and he knew how to reject an article without needlessly 
giving offense. 

He was methodical, and had great power as an organizer. I 
think it was as managing editor of the paper that he most dis- 
tinguished himself. A great paper like the Cotigregationalist re- 
quires skill, care, and steady purpose in planning its various de- 
partments and keeping them all properly filled with the right 
material. This necessitates a wide acquaintance, good judgment 
of character and ability, and constant care in soliciting the best 
material from proper sources. No one who has not had expe- 
rience in this line can know how difficult it is to win success in 
the face of the obstacles and discouraging circumstances which 
constantly beset one. 

He was a good observer of the signs of the times, and a good 
judge of events before they transpired. He could shape public 
opinion and prepare the public mind for results when they came. 

But after all, it was the religious side of his character that was 
the most noticeable and the most conspicuous. He was not only 
a conscientious Christian, but he was a conspicuous Christian. 
His light was always shining, and it was always lighting some- 
body. He was a man who not only felt it his duty to do good, 
but who enjoyed doing good. If there is a doctrine of total de- 
pravity, there is also a doctrine of the triumph of grace over 
human nature. It was to him a delight to aid in upbuilding and 
strengthening the local church of which he was a member, in 
broadening and enlarging the boundaries of our denomination, 
or in encouraging some general movement for the amelioration 
of the evils to which our common humanity is subject. He de- 
lighted in furnishing an accurate and readable report — difficult 
and wearisome as such a task always was — of a meeting of the 
American Board, the American Missionary Association, or the 
American Home Missionary Society. 

Moreover, whatever he did was done well. He had the some- 
what rare quality of succeeding in whatever he undertook, in spite 
of obstacles. 

Multitudes mourned his death, and his loss was severely felt, 



LIVING WITNESSES. 187 

not only by his family and immediate friends, but by the church 
he had served so long, the general moral and religious move- 
ments in Boston and vicinity, the great benevolent societies of 
our denomination, to all of which he was specially devoted, and 
by the great multitude of Congregationalists who had so intimately 
made and cultivated his acquaintance through the weekly visits of 
the paper with which he was for so many years so closely identified. 

(Prof.) William A. Mowry. 

Salet/i, Mass., December 10, i8g2. 



Brooklyn, July 20, 1S92. 

It was impossible to be associated with Mr. Richardson with- 
out being impressed with his generous unselfishness. It is seldom 
that such keenness of perception and of judgment are found in 
conjunction with so kind a heart. Although a comparative stranger 
to Mr. Richardson, I, in common with scores of others, was sur- 
prised to find that he was sincerely interested in my work and had 
taken pains to remember it. "As you remarked in that article 
about So-and-so," he would say, with that delicate flattery which 
is the most gratifying to a writer, because most sincere and most 
unusual. Among all the graduates of the Westfield Normal School 
there was none who stood higher; and although the position of 
president of its body of alumni was an irksome one, Mr. Richard- 
son accepted it in his own unselfish way, and discharged the duties 
of his office in the faithful and thorough manner in which he did 
everything. His courtesy under every annoyance was a revelation 
to all those who saw it. It was this which so endeared him to all 
those with whom he was thrown. And he was not merely cour- 
teous. Many a cold-hearted and calculating man is punctiliously 
courteous. Mr. Richardson was courteous with a certain affec- 
tionate and personal interest which no amount of intention can 
compass without the accompaniment of a truly loving spirit. He 
cared what the rest of us were doing. If we did well he was as 
pleased as though he himself had accomplished something. If 
we did ill he was truly sorry. There was no drop of malice or 
of guile in his disposition. 

It seems to me that this was his predominating characteristic 
— his interest in the work of others, his joy in their prosperity. 



I05 LIVING WITNESSES. 

his sorrow when they failed. Every on§ recognizes the nobility 
of such a nature. It appeals to the most cynical. We are all of 
us fond of him who shows that he regards us and appreciates our 
good qualities. Thus our adm. ration and our affection are alike 
enlisted for such a man as Mr. Richardson, and it is no wonder 
that when he died all those who had been associated with him, 
while feeling deeply in an intellectual sense their loss of his 
shrewd discrimination and accurate judgment, grieved most amid 
their falling tears for the kind and loving friend, who received the 
slightest tale of another's experience as something in which he 
was personally concerned, and whose disinterested advice and 
counsel were at the command of his whole circle of companions. 

Kate Upson Clark. 



Cambridge, February ii, 1893. 

It gives me pleasure to bear my tribute to Mr. Richardson's 
worth. I knew him as a neighbor, as a fellow attendant at the 
same church, as a member of the school board of Chelsea under 
which I served, and as the managing editor of the Congrega- 
tionalist seeking occasional contributions from my pen. This 
acquaintance extended over a period of twenty years. 

Mr. Richardson always impressed me as a clear-headed, cool, 
dispassionate man, who could see both sides of a question and act 
judicially upon it. He was not a man to be carried by storm 
either for or against a measure, but would always act in accord- 
ance with his judgment rather than in response to his feelings. 

In the numerous questions that kept coming up about the 
public schools his decisions were occasionally adverse to my 
wishes and to what I conceived to be the best policy ; but I al- 
ways felt that in such cases there was a sincere desire and an 
earnest purpose to be just to all interests ; and the sequel not un- 
frequently showed that his decisions were the result of a broader 
survey of the conditions than my obligations to a single school 
would permit me to make. Never, by any stretch of interpreta- 
tion, could his votes in the school board be regarded as indica- 



LIVING WITNESSES. 1S9 

ting any lack of sympathy or appreciation with the teachers. Fie 
was himself once a teacher, and so was specially fitted to view 
school problems from the teacher's standpoint, as he was also 
specially fitted by his successful business life to view the same 
problems from the standpoint of the great public that was strug- 
gling to solve them, and scores of other problems at the same 
time. 

Though not given, as I knew him, to obtrusive or over- zeal- 
ous expressions of friendship, Mr. Richardson was a friend of 
the quiet, strong, and enduring kind — just the one to remind us 
of the familiar thought that " Still waters run deep." I feel espe- 
cially indebted to him for his services in " drawing me out " and 
starting me along other lines than those of school routine. I 
think it was he more than any other that worked me into the 
lecture courses of the Chestnut Street Church in Chelsea, to see, I 
suppose, whether I was destined to sink or to swim. Subsequently 
he tolled me into one of the Boston lecture bureaus as one who 
showed something of promise for a wider field — an experience 
that proved of great value to myself, whatever it may have proved 
to my audiences. Then he gave me, from time to time, topics to 
prepare for the Congregationalist, short, readable articles in a pop- 
ular vein, on scientific themes not so abstruse as to repel — this 
was one of his ideals. What was judiciously written for young 
people would appeal, he believed, to mature people and old peo- 
ple, and so he was pleased to have me address myself, with others 
whom he asked, to " young people of all ages." 

His words of appreciation were always encouraging and stim- 
ulating — "Just the thing," "We are always glad to hear from 
you," " Send us another of the same kind " — words that in writ- 
ing were all aglow with heartiness and warmth. He was not so 
prone to give commendation orally, but when he did so it was 
given in that calm, unemphatic way that made one who did not 
know him question seriously whether any special commendation 
was intended at all. To get at the genuine meaning of much that 
is said to us by way of approval we have to subtract something. 
Those who knew Mr. Richardson and who received an approving 
word from him learned in time to add something. In other words, 
his opinions were at a premium among those that knew him thor- 
oughly, and not at a discount. 



igo LIVING WITNESSES. 

I recall an interesting fact that showed one phase of his spirit 
to deal justly, if not generously, with people who served him. On 
one occasion I sent him a popular article on some theme in astron- 
omy. He sent me in payment the usual check, which was wholly 
satisfactory, and a word of appreciation, which was more than sat- 
isfactory. The article had the place of honor as the opening one 
on the first page. A little later he sent me another check for the 
same article, substantially doubling the payment, with the pleas- 
ant remark that, on re-reading it, he felt it was worth more, and 
that it gratified him to send more. I presume I was but one of 
many to whom the same kindly thought was given. 

And so, without forming anything like a close and desperate 
friendship with him — for his was not the temperament to draw out 
affection of the effusive and demonstrative kind from those who 
saw only his outer life — I felt when he was finally summoned 
home that 1 had lost a friend of the true and enduring type — a 
friend whose worth, like that of a strong and genuine poem, 
gathers force as the years roll on and relegates to forgetfulness 
all that is weak and false and transient. 

What a pity it is that some share of the eulogies that are given 
the worthy dead does not fall to them while living! Perhaps, 
though, the truer thought is that the honorable positions and 
duties the world assigns a capable and upright man are in them- 
selves a long-continued eulogy. Whatever our views on this 
theme, there is room for our faith that in the realms beyond 
our knowledge the final awards of praise kindle and warm the 
departed friend as they do those that mourn his going. 
Sincerely yours, 

Frank A. Hill, 

Principal High School. 



Milwaukee, January, 1891. 
Among the many who desire to lay their tributes of gratitude 
and regard upon the so lately vacated desk in the office of the 
Congregationalist is there space for the word which my heart 
prompts me to bring? The message of Mr. Richardson's depar- 
ture has come so suddenly, without warning, that we cannot yet 



LIVING WITNESSES. I9I 

make him dead ; but, as is often our experience, his going has 
emphasized the regard in which we held him — the hold which 
his type of Christian character had upon us. We realize anew 
that in "the last analysis" simple, unpretentious uprightness, 
every-day adherence to the principles of righteous living, and 
loyalty to the believed will of God will crown a man right royally 
and leave all who knew him mourners that the world must be the 
poorer for his going. I wish to bear witness to the consideration 
and kindness which he has always shown me since the far-away 
day, nearly thirty-five years ago, when with fear and trembling in 
my girl heart I sent my first verses to the Congregationalist, to this 
present year of grace when, the halfway hilltop passed, my face 
is set toward the sunset. 

' It is delightful to remember the unvarying courtesy, real 

kindly interest, the candor, the sincere friendship of the true 
Christian gentleman, which I have always received at his hands. 
Of his even balance of character, his life, the loss to church and 
editorial staff, irreparable bereavement which his heaven-going 
has left in his earthly home, other pens than mine will write, 
other tongues speak. I come only to bring my single pansy of 
grateful thought and remembrance concerning the friend of so 
many years, whose absence to our mortal vision means not real 
loss but, instead, divine enlargement of capacity to his wider serv- 
ice, even an heavenly ! 

Rebecca Perley Reed. 



Andover, January 19, 1891. 
We were shocked and deeply grieved to see in our paper this 
morning the death of your husband. It seems now as if he had 
been my lifelong friend, for one of the first things I ever wrote 
he accepted and told me he liked. I did not see much of him, 
but always felt as if the day was brighter, better worth living, if 
we accidentally met. I had, a short time ago, a pleasant note in 
regard to a sketch whose environment is the neighborhood of the 
Mammoth Cave. In the brief note he alluded to your being 
there with him two years since and to your mutual churchgoing. 
I thought it such a cordial, pleasant word that I told Mr. Downs 



ig2 LIVING WITNESSES. 

it was as welcome as a Christmas gift. He leaves behind mem- 
ories delightful, honorable, and never-failing. By and by you may 
feel it was better, too, that he went thus suddenly and knew no 
decay of mind, no feebleness of body. 

Annie Sawyer Downs. 



GoRHAM, Maine, July 19, 1891. 
" Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." 
How often have I thought of this in connection with Mr. Richard- 
son. He had no special preparation to make ; he was all ready. 
His work was so faithfully done, so perfectly done, so superbly 
done ! The Congregatiofialist has been for years a paper of phe- 
nomenal influence, and Mr. Richardson was the power. There was 
able assistance, of course, but he had the backbone and soul of it ; 
he more than any other made it what it was, and I miss him in 
it all through. Of course he will live in it a long time, but his 
molding hand I miss painfully. Very sad it was, too, to call 
at the office and not see him there. I am grateful, however, for 
such a life and for such a friend, and I rejoice in his achieve- 
ment. Such lives are a revelation direct from heaven, and they 
reveal heaven. Bible characters interest us intensely, but there 
is a special vividness and reality in the lives of those whom we 
know who have a grand, divine mission. 

E. B. Emery. 



Boston, January 19, 189 1. 
I was very much shocked this morning on reading the an- 
nouncement of Mr. Richardson's death in the Journal. I per- 
sonally, with my family, feel a loss in this event. We felt very 
much as though Mr. Richardson had been a personal friend. I 
shall never forget one act of friendship of his that was done 
without ostentation and yet was so great a help to me that it set 
me upon my feet. I have never forgotten to be reminded of it 
or to tell others, when occasion arose for me to do so, of the kind- 
ness which impressed itself upon my life. I know his life was full 



LIVING WITNESSES. 



193 



of just such good deeds as that, and it is not always the case that 
we find a man fitted to live and fitted to die also. I think he will 
have a royal welcome over on the other side. 

Nearly two years later came the following from the same : 

This morning as we were talking of the Christmastide I re- 
membered the great kindness of Mr. Richardson in assisting me 
at a crisis of my business life many years ago, and I thought it 
might be appreciated by you if you knew we had not forgotten it. 

I remember at one time at your house in Chelsea speaking of 
the service rendered, and you made the remark that if I would do 
the same to others it would be reward enough for yourselves. 

I have found that the inspiration of my life, and many is the 
young man I've helped financially. Some have been unworthy, 
and others have been worthy. This year I have so assisted two 
young men, who give promise of success. And just this Christmas 
week I have been the salvation of a business man who, with his 
family, has suffered poverty and would have been financially ship- 
wrecked in two days more but for the timely aid of a few hun- 
dred dollars. This may be lost, or it may make a difference of a 
quarter of a million dollars to him. It has been a case of perse- 
cution, but with the blessing of God he will now get his just dues. 

This may cause your heart to bleed again for the loved one, 
but let me say he needs no monument. May the Lord make me 
as good as he was. f. 



Chelsea, January 18, iSgi. 
I was surprised, amazed, bewildered, when I heard today of 
the death of your loved and honored husband. It does seem 
strange to our poor mortal reason that one so active in the 
Master's service, so essential to the happiness, the comfort, the 
very existence of others, so useful to society, so, it seems to us, 
necessary to the development, the improvement, the best good 
of mankind, that he should be taken away from serving God 
here to rule and reign with him there. No one knew the value 
of the Bible and the God of the Bible better than Mr, Richardson. 
No one appreciated the power and worth of the gospel more than 
he did. 

S. W. Mason. 



194 LIVING WITNESSES. 

Chelsea, April 15, 1891. 
Your sorrow is shared by us, to whom a great affliction has 
also come. I feel at times almost like stepping out of the activ- 
ities of our church life, the feeling of loneliness is so depressing ; 
yet I know the work must go on though the workers fall while in 
the midst of usefulness. 

W. J. W. Stickney. 



Franklin, February 3, 1891. 
Charles has always showed such a kind interest in all our in- 
terests that he has seemed like a brother beloved. From the days 
of earliest childhood we have known and loved him, and he was 
my husband's confidential friend ever after his own dear mother 
was taken from him. No one ever seemed to me fuller of the 
spirit and temper of Christ and showed it so plainly to every one 
he met as he did. His very face expressed it in every line, and 
I have several times during the last summer remarked to my 
family at home how these words would come to my mind when 
we sat near him in the Bible class or church, " Mark the perfect 
man and behold the upright," as though God were saying to us, 
" 'Tis safe to trust him, to love him, to follow his example ; he has 
my work, my spirit." Especially I remember his look of peace 
while sitting by the side of his mother at that communion service 
in the old home. It is a tender love that withholds from her the 
knowledge that he is already with the Saviour, waiting to welcome 
her there. 

A. M. Baker. 



Brooklyn, January 20, 1891. 
My father and mother have welcomed their friend of many 
years. There has been no severing of an earthly tie that has 
seemed to mean so much to me since my father's going as the 
one of this, the friend so closely united to my dearest memories. 
Mr. Richardson's life has been, and will always be, a benediction 
to me. . . . 



LIVING WITNESSES. 



195 



I wish so much that I had ever said to him what I can so 
truly say of my deepest appreciation of him as the friend of my 
father and mother and as my friend. Our very occasional meet- 
ings gave chance for little more than surface subjects ; but I wish 
I had had the satisfaction of telling him how I valued his cordial 
handshake last summer when I saw him at Bridgewater, where I 
chanced to be with friends at the normal reunion. As he shook 
my hand his "Why, Ella, Mr. Bryant and I were just talking of 
you," made me feel a glow of pride that he was my friend. What 
he was to my father no one living knows now as I do. His 
genial, cordial, brotherly love was one of my father's chief satis- 
factions, and his firm belief in his integrity made father accept 
from him suggestions and criticism in the kind spirit in which it 
was meant on any point where their views were not alike. The 
strength and comfort of sympathy from you both has meant much 
to us in our frequent times of sickness and parting. So often the 
last three weeks has come to me the picture of heaven, the picture 
I have formed of real people and real interests, and the thought 
of how truly he, as one of the kings among men, has carried his 
glory and honor there and is walking in the perfect light of per- 
fect love. Surely we are blessed in the assurance that for those 
we have so loved, for those we love just as dearly now, there has 
been an abundant entrance. 

Ella C. Hutchins. 



January 21, 1891. 
How was my heart saddened some two hours ago at dinner 
time when my daughter put into my hand a marked copy of the 
Traveller containing the surprising intelligence of the death of 
my very dear, dear friend Richardson. Having a few leisure 
moments just at this time I embrace them to write you a few lines, 
that I may be in sympathy with you at this hour while you are 
paying the last tributes of respect to that noble dead. For who 
nobler ? I need not remind you what you have lost. Friend 
Richardson was no common man, of whom no one knew better 
his true qualities and worth than yourself ; that Christian charac- 
ter standing out more prominent than anything else. Forty-one 



196 LIVING WITNESSES. 

years ago, within a few months, since I first made his acquaint- 
ance • as then, so has he ever displayed that same marked Chris- 
tian character and upright manliness at all our greetings in this 
long interval of time. I have always felt that I have never had 
a truer friend than in him. And I have often heard of kind words 
said to my friends of the true regard he had for me, and I have 
had still further proofs by his many acts of kindness bestowed and 
generous deeds done. Though not possessing his deep religious 
character, I feel that I owe much to him for the religious convic- 
tions I have inspired by his example and religious correspondence 
and personal interviews. And O, how I shall miss him ! Not- 
withstanding circumstances have placed us in different spheres of 
life for years past, and our correspondence and meetings have been 
less frequent than in former years, yet when we met or exchanged 
letters the same spirit prevailed, and I always felt the better for 
these meetings or letters, yea, more of a man. How my memory 
goes back to our exchange of visits in the earlier years of our ac- 
quaintance ! How many pleasant gatherings and meetings crowd 
upon my memory — the pleasantest of my life — and I shall ever 
call them to mind with the greatest pleasure, though with a heart 
full of sorrow that I shall meet with him no more. My last inter- 
view with him was at Westfiekl at the gathering of the alumni; 
but for his generosity I should not have been there. It followed 
so soon after my dear boy's death, after the long sickness and 
heavy expenses incurred, I wrote to him that circumstances were 
such I should have to deny myself the pleasure. He replied by 
asking if I was so situated that I could get away, and if so he would 
take care of the circumstances. It seems to me I was never more 
impressed with his goodness than at that time. He reviewed old 
times and associations, and cheered me wonderfully. Imagine my 
surprise on the day you left when he put into my hands a dol- 
lar bill, and though I informed him it was much more than my 
expenses he insisted upon my taking it. What a friend! When 
I think of this kind act, together with others he has rendered me, 
I have said he was a friend indeed and in need. But I forbear 
saying more of his kindness toward me, for in the fullness of my 
heart there is a welling up that causes the eye to moisten and 
prevents the pen from doing its bidding. I must not forget to 



LIVING WITNESSES. I97 

mention his last crowning act. For years he has sent me the 
CongregaiionaHst, which I have so much prized, and only week 
before last, I think it was, on looking upon the wrapper I found 
he had put me on the list for another year. 

A. 



Woodford's, Maine, January, 1893. 

In recalling happy visits in your home there are memories 
upon which some of Mr. Richardson's characteristics are indel- 
ibly marked — his unfailing hospitality, his uniform kindness to 
every one beneath his roof, his interest in all that interested 
others, even while burdened with his own heavy cares. I recall 
vividly his " Good morning " to us all when leaving for the office, 
his tender parting with his aged mother, his last word with you at 
the door, and, as he stepped into the car, the bright, backward 
glance toward the home he loved so well ; the "Good evening" 
when he returned weary and worn with the day's perplexities, the 
half hour he would give us in the evening, leaving the library to 
share with us all bits of important news or pleasant gossip, pres- 
ently slipping back to his work in the quiet way so peculiar to him. 
I recall the Sunday evening prayers between the daylight and the 
dark ; the petitions had a more personal and more tender tone 
than on week days ; from the aged and feeble mother by his side to 
the "child" then over the sea no needy or loved one was forgotten. 

I shall never forget his friendly cordiality when my nephew 
and I tarried for a night at your pleasant " Bellevue " home on 
our way to the little parish on the coast of Maine where the young 
student was going with trembling heart to do his first gospel work, 
his words of encouragement given out of the experience of years 
of Christian living, and especially his prayer for our journey and 
our work. He seemed to realize every need and hope of the 
young worker and the grace of God, which alone could carry 
him through with acceptance. " That perfect prayer " the young 
man called it afterward, and I know the memory of it was com- 
fort and inspiration. Indeed, in the later years with you I some- 
times thought Mr. Richardson more himself, more truly at home, 
in his prayer than anywhere else. In the weekly church meeting 



198 LIVING WITNESSES. 

his face seemed to shine, and such a soft look came into it at times 
that had he been called suddenly away the only change must have 
been from prayer here to praise there ! 

A. B. c. K. 



Chelsea, February 18, 1892. 
When I think, as I so often do, how beautiful and strong was 
the affection that you and your husband had for each other, I feel 
that I can realize a little how great your loneliness and your long- 
ing, and my heart aches for you. I love to think of the life that 
you two lived together. How sweet the memory of it must be to 
you ! 

H. M. G. 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 



It gives me much satisfaction to be able to write you that the 
newspapers of Boston and vicinity were unanimous in their verdict 
that your grandpapa was a rarely influential force in religious jour- 
nalism. The few excerpts I send will show you their estimate of 
him and his work. 

Grandmamma. 



[Editorial in the Co7igregatio7ialist.'\ 

The announcement of the death of Mr. Richardson, the man- 
aging editor of this paper, will be tidings of sincere sorrow to many 
who from personal relations have known and loved him. But 
multitudes who have never seen his face owe him a debt of grat- 
itude greater than they know. We strive to write dispassionately, 
and to restrain the expression of emotion in the sudden and great 
grief which has fallen on us. Yet we cannot repress the thought 
that this good man's life and labor have ministered with quiet con- 
scientious purpose, and without desire for fame, to many thousands 
of readers for many years ; to men and women and children whose 
lives he has made happier and better by the messages that have 
come to them through his hands; to the churches whose interests 
were ever dear to his heart ; and to the kingdom of God in which, 
though not set apart by formal ordination, he was a faithful min- 
ister of Christ. O brothers, sisters, let his work grow and extend 
through lives quickened and hallowed by his noble, though often 
unthought of, service. 



[Editorial in the Congregationalist.'\ 
CHARLES ADDISON RICHARDSON. 

Within hardly more than two months from the time of Dr. 
Dexter's death, and with the sorrow connected therewith still 
fresh and poignant, the Congregationalist is called upon to part 



202 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

with one who has been equally identified with its past and no less 
instrumental in making this journal what it is today. Charles A. 
Richardson, the managing editor for thirty-five years, died last 
Sunday, after an illness of less than four days, at the Hotel Belle- 
vue in this city, where he had boarded with his family the past 
two winters. For the previous fortnight his health had hardly 
been up to its usual level, but he had fulfilled his customary 
duties, and as late as Wednesday forenoon was at his desk. That 
afternoon he was seized with a sharp illness, which developed 
rapidly into peritonitis accompanied with pneumonia. Toward 
the last heart failure supervened, and at half-past two on Sunday 
morning he passed into the other life. 

Mr. Richardson came of sturdy New England stock. His 
native place was Franklin, in this State, where his mother is now 
living at the advanced age of nearly ninety-six. He also leaves 
a wife; one married daughter, Mrs. W. F. Ray, of Franklin; and 
a younger daughter, Miss Alice ; besides five grandchildren. He 
was born October 9, 1829, and his early years were spent on a 
farm, where he was a hard-working lad, anxious for an education, 
and picking up what little learning he could obtain in the local 
schools and academies. His meager resources and ill health 
induced by too severe study together forbade the realization of 
the longings which he ardently cherished for a collegiate educa- 
tion and for a ministerial career; but by dint of his economy and 
his persistency he managed to attend the State Normal Schools 
in Westfield and Bridgewater. He then taught school for several 
years, and earned high praise for his success in this vocation in 
Medway, Franklin, Montague, Everett, and Dedham. The years 
1854-55 found him clerk in the then famous bookstore of John 
P. Jewett & Co. in this city. 

In January of the year 1856 Mr. Richardson acquired an 
interest in the Congregationalist, and his personal history in the 
thirty-five years since that date is intertwined with the history of 
this journal. Its growth in circulation, its enlargement, and its 
improvement in every direction, the grafting on of new depart- 
ments, its steady progress toward the ideals of excellence — these 
things are due in great measure to his far-sightedness and invent- 
ive genius. Starting in as a proprietor and managing editor, Mr. 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 203 

Richardson threw the whole strength of his vigorous young man- 
hood into its advancement, cooperating with Mr. W, L. Greene 
— now in California — in the business department, while at the 
same time performing the duties of office editor, Dr. Dexter un- 
dertaking the general editorship in connection with his pastorale. 
As the force of workers was increased Mr. Richardson concen- 
trated his efforts more exclusively upon his particular department, 
yet it may be truly said that the influence of his personality con- 
tinued to be felt in every fiber of the paper's life. His special 
work was to make up the paper week by week, deciding when 
and where every article should find its place ; to pass judgment 
upon communications; to project new features; and, in short, to 
attend to all the multiform details connected with the editorial 
management of a great journal. With it all he wrote a great 
deal, and through the Civil War prepared a weekly summary of 
its progress, which was so ably and discriminatingly done that it 
reflected great credit upon the paper. Perhaps the fact that his 
brother, A. D. Richardson, the well-known war correspondent of 
the New York Tribune, was at the front all through the strife led 
him to follow the windings of the conflict with peculiar interest. 

Mr. Richardson's general journalistic ability was of the first 
order. He possessed in a remarkable degree both that instinct 
for news and that sense of proportion in setting it forth which 
characterize the born editor. Grasping easily matters in their 
detail, he never became so immersed in relatively trivial and sub- 
ordinate affairs as to lose sight of the great movements of our 
time. The qualities which he strove to cultivate in others, and 
which he exemplified in his own style, were accuracy, clearness, 
and condensation. His eye was quick to detect mistakes, and he 
was facile in applying remedies. The careful oversight which he 
gave to every column of the paper before it went to the printer 
accrued to the interest of the reader as respects both the external 
appearance of the sheet and the arrangement of its contents. 
The average reader, who thinks that papers put themselves to- 
gether, may hardly appreciate the need of such painstaking care, 
but its absence would be speedily perceptible. He had the rare 
gift of discerning what the religious public want to know, and 
of distinguishing between temporary excitements and permanent 
undercurrents of religious movements. 



204 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

Mr. Richardson pursued religious journalism as his one voca- 
tion, and intermitted his editorial labors only when his health 
required a change. He made two trips to Europe and two to 
California, and these, as well as less extended journeys, were not 
for the sake of recreation purely, but to broaden his range of 
observation and to store his mind with knowledge wherewith he 
might better serve the paper. 

This single-minded devotion to his work necessarily circum- 
scribed the field of his activities. Had he allowed himself to be 
pressed into service in various directions he would have held 
many responsible positions, since his judgment and business sa- 
gacity were greatly prized. He always had a keen sense of the 
sacredness of his church duties. The scene of the greater part 
of his labors of this sort has been the First Church in Chelsea, 
of which he remained a member till his death, though he sold his 
residence in that city last April. In previous years he has held 
there the offices of superintendent of the Sunday school and 
deacon. He has been for many years one of the directors of the 
American Congregational Association, which controls the Congre- 
gational House property, and he was a director of the Congrega- 
tional Sunday-School and Publishing Society. The presidency of 
the Westfield Normal School Alumni and a vice-presidency of the 
Boston Congregational Club were other public offices he has held. 
He was moderator of the State Association at New Bedford in 
1885. He received from Dartmouth the honorary degree of 
Master of Arts. 

Mr. Richardson's sterling character, his keen sense of honor, 
his remarkable conscientiousness, his scrupulous endeavor to be 
perfectly just and fair, his deep spirituality, left their impression 
upon all who touched him closely. No Puritan ever cherished 
higher ideals of conduct. He, like Mary Lyon, could truthfully 
say, "There is nothing in the universe that I fear but that I shall 
not know my whole duty, or shall fail to do it," Strong and posi- 
tive in his beliefs, he was not inhospitable to new ideas and he 
did not walk with his face toward the past. Marvelously patient 
and considerate amid the countless interruptions and irritations 
incident to a busy newspaper office, and serene and trustful amid 
the greater complications which thirty-five years' experience in 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 205 

journalism could not fail to bring, Mr. Richardson succeeded 
better than many men in putting the spirit of his Master into the 
warp and woof of his daily life. He found his place in the world ; 
he filled it well. He has finished the work which the Father 
gave him to do. 

The personal relations between the group of workers in the 
Congregatiotialist office are too intimate and sacred to be touched 
upon here. Two such men as Dr. Dexter and Mr. Richardson 
cannot go out of the circle without being missed and mourned. 
Yet it is well known that, in anticipation of the chances and 
changes of this mortal life, they had some time ago called to 
their assistance men whom they deemed worthy and competent 
to carry on their work — men in whose loyalty to Christ and to 
the things for which this paper has stood they had implicit confi- 
dence — men whom they themselves have trained into perfect 
familiarity with their own methods and purposes. This sacred 
trust, devolved in the providence of God upon their successors, 
is accepted humbly yet hopefully. They to whom it is given cher- 
ish no stronger desire than that they may do their work, in their 
day, with the fidelity and consecration which shone out in the 
lives of Henry M. Dexter and Charles A. Richardson. 



[Editorial in the Congregationalist.\ 

Every mail brings to this office letters of condolence and 
kindly remembrance of the late managing editor, Mr. C. A. Rich- 
ardson. A large number of those who have corresponded with 
him in furnishing articles or news of the churches refer to the 
warm friendship which has grown up with him in this interchange 
of thoughts, and to their high estimate of the value of his coun- 
sels and of his Christian faith. He enjoyed the confidence and 
lived in the affections of a noble company of those who have 
done much to make the world happier and better, though many 
of them have never seen his face. No worthier tribute could be 
desired to the memory of a good and useful life. We make this 
public acknowledgment because it is not possible for us to reply 
by letter to each one of those who have written us, whose sympa- 
thy and encouragement are most welcome and highly prized. 



2o6 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

[From the Coiigregationalist."^ 
FUNERAL OF MR. RICHARDSON. 

Very tender and impressive was the simple family service 
held in Boston, Tuesday afternoon, January 20, at Hotel Bellevue, 
by the bedside of Mrs. Richardson, who has been prostrated by 
illness since last Christmas. Dr, Dunning read the Scriptures, 
and Dr. Plumb, the faithful pastor who had ministered to them 
in their early married life when four little ones were removed by 
death, offered prayer. 

The public exercises were at the First Church in Chelsea, 
with which Mr. Richardson had been connected nearly thirty-five 
years. Its membership was very largely represented in the au- 
dience, which filled the body of the house. The delegation from 
the Congregational House included all his associates on the 
Congregationalist, officers of the American Board, of the Home 
Missionary and Publishing Societies, and representatives of the 
American Congregational Association. There were also present 
scores of individuals occupying high positions in religious, liter- 
ary, and business circles. A striking group was the row of office 
boys, conducted by " Mr. Martin," occupying seats directly behind 
the family pew. This was closed and beautifully decorated by 
friends in the church and Sabbath school with smilax and exqui- 
site lilies. Flowers of the same kinds were tastefully arranged 
about the pulpit, but near the casket was placed nothing except 
graceful, towering palms ; on its outside lay two crossed branches 
of that symbolic tree. Those who stood in closest relation to Mr. 
Richardson appreciated the significance of this emblem, knowing 
full well that his quiet life was a constant victory over self and 
over circumstances. The pallbearers were his lifelong friends, 
Thomas Todd, J. J. Underbill, C. M. Whittlesey, J. W. Stickney, 
C. A. Phelps, and one of the editors of the paper, Rev. H. A. 
Bridgman. 

After an invocation and reading of the Scriptures by Rev. 
G. E. Lovejoy, of Franklin, whose parishioner he was during his 
summer residence in that his native place and his frequent visits 
there, brief addresses were made by Drs. Dunning, Plumb, and 
Quint. They spoke respectively of Mr. Richardson in his public 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 207 

work as a journalist, of his church and family life, and of his 
characteristics as a personal friend. In each of these spheres it 
was shown how a love of righteousness was his dominant trait. 
Everywhere and under all circumstances, no matter how difficult, 
the absolutely right course of action was the only one for him to 
pursue. This firmness gave a touch of severity to his character, 
but it made him invaluable as an office bearer in the church and 
Sunday school, as a personal adviser, and especially as the man- 
ager of a great religious newspaper. It was inevitable that this 
unswerving fidelity to principle should sometimes make enemies, 
but their misunderstanding of his motives was borne in heroic 
silence and with almost superhuman patience. The closing prayer 
was by Rev. Lawrence Phelps, pastor elect of the church. The 
musical selections were in excellent taste. Mr. Richardson greatly 
enjoyed congregational singing, and one impressive part of the 
service was when the audience stood and joined the choir in 
singing the grand old hymn. 

Servant of God, well done. 



[From tJu Co7igregationaUst.'\ 

It was a sad beginning of the week's secular duties, that 
Monday morning telegram, " Mr. Richardson died yesterday after 
three days' illness." More sudden, if possible, and more start- 
ling it seemed than did the similar dispatch from Mr. Richard- 
son's own hand scarcely two months before, " Dr. Dexter died 
this morning." Three or four business notes had come from him 
within a week — in which, as was his wont, business matters were 
blessed with the pleasant expression of friendly personal interest 
— so that it was hardly possible to realize that that busy hand 
was still, and never another word would it pen either of business 
or of friendship. 

In all these years of our steady correspondence and confer- 
ence never has a word fallen from him save in kindness, never 
an act has shown anything but unselfish considerateness of his 
friend's welfare. All the week it has seemed as if each morning's 
mail must bring; one of his ever welcome missives. And with 



2o8 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

every recurring thought of the paper to which he had given his 
life so long he has been seen as plainly as ever at his desk, with 
his hand upon the tube connecting with the composing room, and 
his face wreathed in his expressive smile of welcome turning 
toward the comer. 

Well, he has done a great work for the best of causes, and he 
has done it nobly. He has been faithful to his divine Lord, who 
put him in trust with the gospel that he should preach it, not 
from one pulpit to a single audience, but from his high vantage 
ground to thousands of hearers. He could well afford to die. 
He had well earned his rest. It is comforting to think of him as 
at home in the Father's house, joyfully greeted by him he had 
loved so well, and whose dying hand he had so lately dropped. 
What a host of choice spirits with whom he had been familiar 
here will gather around him there ! And what bliss to see the 
smile and hear the voice of his Beloved : " Well done ; enter into 
my joy, and sit down on my throne ! " " Precious in the sight of 
the Lord is the death of his saints." His time is the best time. 
Farewell, faithful friend, until we meet again ! 

Huntington. 

Jaiuiary 2J. 

YFroiit the Congregaiionalist.] 

To those who knew the man no sadder tidings have come 
for many a day than those which announced the death of Mr. 
C. A. Richardson, managing editor of this paper. So soon, too, 
after the departure of the honored and lamented Dexter ! How 
admirably they wrought together ! as brothers supplementing each 
other and making a paper whose influence is felt wherever Con- 
gregationalists are found. Associated for a generation in the 
work of their lives, will it not add to their joy to enter so nearly 
at the same time upon the service which the Master has prepared 
for them above ? Who that ever met Mr. Richardson, or enjoyed 
his hospitality, or was connected with him in any way in the 
work of his life, can help feeling that the world has lost one of its 
attractions for him in the death of this gifted journalist? What 
a genius he had for work ! How untiring his industry ! How 
painstaking he was ! What multitudes of letters he wrote, and 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 



209 



in them all kind, appreciative words, of which the memory is like 
sweet perfume, and yet introduced so naturally that they seemed 
to be the words one expected to read ! Now that his life is over 
for this world we can see how noble it was, how rich in good 
deeds, how magnificent in the aggregate of its accomplishments. 
To have known such a man, to have been associated with him 
however slightly, is to have had a privilege which no words of a 
sorrowing heart can adequately express. 



Chicago, January 2^. 



Franklin. 



{From the Coiigregatio7ialist.'\ 
A BUSINESS man's TRIBUTE. 

It does not seem to be possible that Mr. Richardson has 
gone home so soon ! On Monday we sat together in our Sunday- 
School Missionary Committee, he appearing in full health and 
vigor and taking an important part in the discussion of a matter 
in which he was especially interested, and on Sunday he is in 
heaven ! As dear friends pass over so suddenly and so repeatedly, 
how near heaven seems to be to earth ! Mr. Richardson was one 
of the most useful laymen in our Congregational body. He had 
very rare gifts in some directions: 

1. He had a very dear head. He comprehended a new ques- 
tion and its relations to other things very quickly, but was care- 
ful in giving his opinions. It was a habit of his to ask questions 
and get out all the light possible first. He did not err, as many 
do, in giving an opinion first and getting the facts afterwards. 
He heard all there was to be said, and then gave a mature judg- 
ment which rarely had to be reconsidered. 

2. He had 2. good heart. I have seen much of him in many 
ways. I have discussed with him questions and men, and yet 
through all the troublous times through which we have passed I 
never heard him speak an unkind or an ungenerous word of those 
with whom he differed. 

3. He was a broad man. He had the happy faculty of looking 
at things from the standpoint of others. He could put himself 
in another's place. Many men have no patience with those who 



2IO TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

differ with them, and show their irritation. Not so with Mr. Rich- 
ardson. He accorded to all the same honest intentions that he 
claimed for himself. 

4. These qualifications made him eminently a wise adviser^ 
and caused his opinion to be sought by many. He had a great 
knowledge of men all over the land, and could measure their 
value and gauge their ability with great fairness. He never made 
the mistake, which is so very common, of indorsing men whom he 
would gladly help unless he could do it with a clear conscience. 
He had courage with his convictions, and put always the interests 
of the church above that of the individual. 

Sadly will he be missed in many a little circle and upon 
many a committee, where he always spoke so kindly, but so ear- 
nestly and thoughtfully, with regard to the interests of Christ's 
kingdom here on the earth. The Master surely has large service 
yet for him in another world, where to rest is to work and where 
work is always rest. 

Samuel B. Capen. 



\^From the Congregatioiialist.^ 
ANOTHER. 

I remember a large clump of tall pine trees standing close 
together in the Southern land. They were stretching upward 
toward the sunlight. They seemed to be a protection to each 
other. But when men began to cut some of the outside trees, not 
a great many, a strange result followed. Every now and then we 
were startled by the crash of some tree falling by its own weight. 
Each seemed to have lost the sheltering help of the other, and 
when the breakage began it was clear that they had been trying to 
reach the heavenly air and had little root in the earthly soil. 

I wonder if it is so with men. Is it necessary to put every- 
thing upon the level of statistical averages in insurance tables? 
No. If my thought is a fancy, it is a kindly fancy. I see to- 
gether various men who, a few years ago, were variously united. 
They had similar, and often common, interests — interests which 
rose above selfish considerations and made them grow up toward 
heaven. They were not firmly rooted in earthly soil. 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 211 

The departure of Charles A. Richardson, in this line of de- 
partures, should have its passing notice. The current of affairs 
will flow on, the special interests which were in his charge will 
not fail, but some of us are getting to feel lonesome. We miss 
familiar faces. The silence of the unheard voices is painful. We 
are turning toward our children, and living our lives largely 
over again in them. If the sons can make as true men as 
some of these who have gone, we shall be happy. If the daugh- 
ters be as true women as those departing, we shall be satisfied. 
We believe that, in God's ordering, it will be so. Worthy lives 
all help toward this end. If I were to point out to a young 
man an example of what can be effected by singleness of pur- 
pose, patient continuance in welldoing, and methodical industry, 
through the course of a life beginning in somewhat adverse cir- 
cumstances, and closing in high success, both as to conditions 
and character, I would tell him without a moment's hesitation 
of our brother who has so suddenly fallen. One of the most 
helpful, early conditions, however, was beginning in his boyhood 
that Christian life from which he never swerved, and which, as 
he realized it, made him honorable and upright. Young men 
can see in him what a life of honest and well-directed industry, 
under the government of principle, can secure. He not only 
succeeded for himself, but, what was more to him, his steady 
service was an essential constituent in making a great religious 
newspaper. 

I well remember how, in 1861, he kindly pressed me into 
a half promise to write letters from army life for the Congrega- 
tionalist. I regretted at once even the half promise, and delayed 
for a long time. To tell the truth, I did not believe that I could 
write a decent letter of that kind. At last, on his importunity, 
I wrote him that I would try to have one ready about a certain 
date. How terrified I was when next week I read in print that 
the readers might expect a letter from " Chaplain Quint " at 
the given time ! Then there was no help for it. I have been 
in cordial relations with him ever since. This article is, alas ! 
written in fulfilling a recent engagement made with him. He 
was providing, unknowingly, for these recollections of himself. 

Others know, perhaps, as fully as myself what he was in 



212 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

his editorial life. No; I have at least the advantage of years, 
and look farther back upon his calm judgment, his cautious 
survey of any question on its every side, and his sagacity as 
to what was needed to promote the great Christian object of 
the paper. But he is now in my mind far more as the man 
than as the editor, in his inner life than in his official chair. 
He was a man who did not wear his emotional nature outside. 
There were glimpses of it every now and then. What did that 
row of past and present office boys at his funeral mean ? They 
knew that the calm, sedate man had a heart. Others knew it 
also, and I knew (for he consulted me as to method) where some 
of his benefactions went to personal help. Perhaps, also, it was 
a glimpse of his tender faith when, after the death of one of 
his several children who died — a babe only of days — he printed 
in the paper the simple words, " One day is with the Lord as a 
thousand years." 

No one may think that he knows a man because he knows an 
editor. At least it would require a subtle instinct which few pos- 
sess. Even then the fitting occasions to draw out certain features 
of character are wanting. One needs to be in a person's church 
and somewhat in social surroundings, and especially as a welcome 
guest in his house. I was for quite a number of months, by his 
arrangement, in charge of the prayer meeting and Sunday services 
of the church in which our friend was an officer. No one will be 
surprised at my saying that no more exact and punctual man ever 
lived. He was superintendent of the Sunday school, and the 
opening of the school was exact to a minute. He was always 
ready, but solely because he planned his work beforehand. If 
others were not as punctual, he did not fret but he hinted. But I 
soon came to understand the immovable character of his faith and 
the riches of his Christian experience, and this in spite of his reti- 
cence. His sense of justice was instinctive and his conscientious- 
ness seemed perfect. Repeatedly an inmate in his house, and pass- 
ing Sundays there, together with the Saturday nights, of course, as 
I did, one could see, or rather feel, the tenderness and gentleness 
of his home life. There the real man was thoroughly understood. 
Those days were always Christian, but not gloomy. He was very 
kind to a guest, but he never did things in a way or with an air 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 213 

that said, "You see how kind I am." I do not thinl-: it beyond 
propriety for me to allude to the sweet deference and tender re- 
spect which he showed to his aged mother, then cared for and 
nurtured in his home with the most beautiful affection — a saint 
who, at the age of nearly ninety-six, is at the time of this writing 
trembling on the verge of eternal life. Nothing pleased our friend 
better than to have one inquire for his mother, and he was happy 
when the Christian guest, whom he thought it wise to invite to 
that service, would read a bit of Scripture and offer a few words 
of prayer in the aged mother's sunny room. He was telling me 
a few weeks ago, with great pleasure, of the Lord's Supper just 
then celebrated with his mother at her home. 

My last words with him were on the first Sunday of this 
month. It was at the close of the funeral service of a Christian 
woman of advancing years, a member of the same church with 
himself, at which I was called to serve. He came to me, and 
showed far more emotion than usual, and it was with a happy 
smile that he took my hand in a warm grasp, and said, " Another 
saint gone home to heaven ! " Then he spoke very pleasantly 
of some writing of mine about " growing old " which he had read 
that day, and spoke a few minutes about our years to come, and 
what we might make them. In the following hour I saw him at 
the communion service, but we did not speak with each other. It 
was his last communion service on earth, and now he will never 
grow old. God has some work for him and these other men in 
the unseen land. 

(Rev.) a. H. Quint. 



[From the Congregationalist.\ 
FROM A FORMER PASTOR. 

I not only loved Mr. Richardson for those personal qualities 
which won my affection, but I admired him for those abilities 
which made him so efficient in the duty places of his life What 
a genius he had for details ! I never knew a man who could be 
trusted more than he not to forget what a man under responsibili- 
ties ought to remember. As an officer in the church he was in- 
valuable for this faculty. As deacon and superintendent of the 



214 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

Sabbath school he was never remiss. And how wise he was ! how 
faithful and gentle in disagreeable duties ! and what a loyal heart 
he had to friends and to causes ! 

But my thoughts veer round to his personal qualities — those 
indefinable, persistent, powerful sources of influence upon those 
who knew him intimately, more conspicuously operative in home 
and church and friendships than in business, perhaps, but in 
business too, as shown from business relations with him of various 
sorts. 

JUDSON TiTSVVORTH. 

Milwaukee, January 24. 



\From the Congregationalist.'\ 

The announcement of the death of Mr. Richardson was a pain- 
ful shock to all the Washington readers of the Congregationalist. 
It was not known here that he had been ill, and, indeed, the news 
of his death was first announced to most of his Washington friends 
through the columns of this week's paper. As it was truly said in 
the editorial obituary, this sad event causes sincere grief and a 
sense of personal bereavement in the hearts of many who never 
knew Mr. Richardson personally. He made himself widely known 
and respected and beloved through his work as few men ever 

succeed in doing. 

c. s. E. 

Washingion., January 24. 



[Fro7n the Advance.'^ 

And now, and how soon. Dr. Dexter of the Congregationalist 
is followed into the heavens by Mr. Richardson, his dear friend and 
associate, who had been joint proprietor and managing editor of 
the paper for over thirty years. He died at his home Sunday 
morning. The tidings will bring deep sadness not only to Congre- 
gationalists everywhere but to a large circle of intelligent readers 
in other communions. 

The debt which the churches owe to such a man — to such a 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 215 

life — can never be expressed. Mr. Richardson and Dr. Dexter 
were in certain respects widely different; but seldom were two 
men better matched each for his own part in a common work. 
They both equally needed each other. And with what perfect 
accord and complete devotion they wrought together and in con- 
nection with Mr. VV. L. Greene in the service of all the churches, 
and in building up the great journal which is today their best mon- 
ument, would, if suitably told, constitute the story of a partnership 
in a noble enterprise of extraordinary interest. The instinct, the 
impulse, the inspiration which prompted them to make the ven- 
ture when and as they did, the special lines of personal discipline 
which had been preparing them for it, the peculiar providences that 
favored, the noble friends that were so quick to respond, so ready 
to cheer and aid — all this makes a history that cannot be fully 
told, but one which has gone to give impulse, direction, color, and 
tone to a contemporary religious history so wide that no one can 
measure it. 

Mr. Richardson began life as an educator. As a school 
teacher when hardly out of his teens he manifested the same 
traits which have characterized him ever since. His first school 
was an event in the history of the town. Throughout his after 
career he has been an educator still. With no special gift of 
imagination, he had a great and exacting conscience, judg- 
ment, sense, the instinct for method, pragmatical enthusiasm, un- 
quenchable determination, and uncommon capacity for hard work. 
Those who have been associated with him loved him deeply. 
Nothing could be more genuine and true-hearted than his per- 
sonal friendships, the sweet memory of which, as the writer can- 
not refrain from testifying, will be a joy and an inspiration for- 
ever. On behalf of not only ourselves, but of the great company 
of our Advance readers, we extend to his bereaved wife and 
daughters and to those associated with him in the office assur- 
ance of warmest sympathy. When our turn shall come to go 
would that we may be as ready to depart, ns sure of the divine 
welcome, with some reasons for grateful memory still on the part 
of those that remain. 



2l6 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

In reviewing the twenty-five years' history of the Advance 
Dr. Gilbert also wrote : 

I remained with the Advance from that time to this, with the 
exception of the four years from 1882 to 1886, during which time 
I was connected with the Congregationalist as its Western editor. 
And, if this were the place, I would like to testify to the exceed- 
ing delightfulness of the relationship to that paper and to its 
readers, especially to the managing editor, Mr. C. A. Richard- 
son, of the value of whose services to the churches no adequate 
human record will ever be made. 



[From the Pilgrim Teacher.^ 

In the death of Mr. C. A. Richardson, managing editor of the 
Congregationalist, this society and all its officers suffer a severe loss. 
For nine years he has been on our board of directors, and has been 
intimately associated with its management. Mr. Richardson was 
most faithful to any responsibility accepted by him. He did not 
consider his relation to this society a mere honorary one, but, ex- 
cept when away from the city, was prompt in his attendance on 
the board and upon the committees to which he belonged. He 
was on two of its most important committees — the Missionary 
Committee and the Committee on Sunday-School Publications. 
He therefore had to do with the two prominent functions of the 
society — its missionary and its publishing work. His interest in 
the society and his faith in the work to which it is called were 
great. It has had the advantage of his sagacious counsels and 
of his timely and powerful help in the columns of the paper with 
which he was connected. Without the aid he rendered the society 
would not have secured the confidence and cooperation of the 
churches as soon as it has. And the officers of the society have 
each felt that they had in him not merely a wise counselor but a 
personal friend. Genial, sympathizing, earnest, courteous, thor- 
oughly Christian, he was a man who gripped his friends tightly. 
Those who knew him best esteemed him the most. A friend 
drops out and the ranks close up and move on again, but when 
such a friend falls there is always a vacancy to those who knew 
him, though the line may seem to be as before without a break. 



TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 217 

[Fro7n the Boston Aifveriiser.] 

He took charge of the Congregatioiialist when it was of little 
circulation and influence, and is largely responsible for its high 
standing. He had a remarkable "news sense," and was a very 
rapid and diligent worker. His whole life was put into the paper, 
and he was alive to every improvement in the line of religious 
newspapers, and led the way in originating them. He was a 
brother of the well-known war correspondent, A. D. Richardson. 
Following the war more closely on account of his interest in his 
brother's work, he began a weekly summary of war news for the 
Congregationalist which attracted wide attention. . . . He was 
highly esteemed among Congregational business men for his prac- 
tical ability. 



\_Froni the Boston Journal.'\ 

He entered the Congregationalist in 1856 as editor and part 
owner, and it is as much to him as any one else that the pros- 
perity and success of that paper is due. He developed remark- 
able newspaper ability, and developed religious journalism along 
many new lines. He was a man of deep piety and strength of 
conviction. 



[Fro/n the Boston Herald.] 

In the death of Charles A. Richardson of the Congregationalist 
religious journalism loses one of its most devoted and talented 
members. By hard work, journalistic courage, literary instinct, 
denominational loyalty, he made the Congregationalist in variety, 
quality, and quantity a weekly feast for every one in a Christian 
home. 



[From the Boston Post.] 

At the beginning of his labors on the Congregationalist the 
paper had but a small circulation, but Mr. Richardson labored 
hard and intelligently, and put into the work all the resources 
of a quick and inventive mind ; and it is to him more than to 
any other one man that is due the high place it has reached 



2l8 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 

among religious periodicals. He was part proprietor as well as 
editor, and thus he was able to be instrumental in its. success in 
other ways than by the direct use of his pen. His application to 
work was very close ; his only periods of rest, except the briefest, 
were two trips to Europe and two to California, 



[From the Chelsea Gazette. \ 

While residing in this city he was much esteemed in church 
and the higher social circles ; but he had little taste for politics, 
though at times many of his admirers and friends desired him 
for mayor and other ofifices. 



\_Froin the Chelsea Record.} 

People who know tell me that Managing Editor Richardson 
was, like the strong, active, persistent news seeker he was, the 
head and front of the progress of the Coiigregationalist in recent 
years. No one was quicker to note a good thing or a new thing 
and to make use of it. He it was who really did most to build 
up the circulation and value of the Congregationalist as a paying 
property. 



[From the Chelsea Telegraph atid Pioneer. \ 

He was known and respected as a man of deep piety, always 
holding firmly to his strength of convictions. ... Of his life 
among us, he was honored, beloved, and esteemed for his many 
noble traits of character, and it was with deep regret the news 
was received that he was to be no longer a citizen of Chelsea 
and his place of residence was for sale. Though not a public 
man in the common sense of the word, he was a good citizen, 
and always had a warm interest in the success and welfare of 
our city. He did good and faithful work as a member of the 
school board during the years 1865 and 1866, and again in 1874, 
1875, ^"<^ 1876; for educational work was one he loved and was 
best conversant with. 



CONCLUSION. 219 



CONCLUSION. 



It seems superfluous for me to add anything to the foregoing 
tributes. It has been my great privilege to assist in arranging 
them for publication, and in the service I have realized anew the 
singular strength and beauty of Mr. Richardson's character. Being 
closely associated with him in work on the Congregationalist for 
more than ten years, a frequent guest in his happy home, and a 
member of the little party which accompanied him on his second 
European tour, I had exceptional opportunities for observing the 
ripening of those noble qualities which made such a deep impres- 
sion upon all who came in contact with him either in business or 
as a friend. 

He had one characteristic, however, which no one seems to 
have mentioned, and that is his power of compelling people to do 
their best. His own standard of achievement, both mental and 
moral, was of the highest, and he quietly assumed that you, too, 
could reach it. He could not tolerate slovenly work from any one 
in his employ, whether office boy or editorial writer, and this led, 
I think, to a misapprehension that he was austere and a difficult 
person to deal with. So far from this being the case, it was, to all 
who responded to his expectation that they would do their " level 
best," a token that he was genuinely kind and deeply sympathetic, 

I recall an instance in my early experience on the paper which 
will serve as an illustration. It was at vacation time when several 
of the staff were absent and Mr. Richardson told me to prepare an 
editorial upon a subject concerning which I knew comparatively 
nothing. He wasted no words in the matter, but simply took it 
for granted that I had enough intelligence to post myself upon the 
assigned topic before attempting to write. The calm assumption 
on his part that I had the ability to do what then seemed to me 
impossible was rather terrifying at first, but it proved a positive 
incentive to both pride and ambition. I felt that I must reach the 
estimate he had set upon my mentality, whatever sacrifice of time 
and strength might be involved in the effort. When the article 
was finished he read it critically and remarked, " You can do 



220 CONCLUSION. 

better than that," at the same time pointing out, with the utmost 
kindness, its weak points and rhetorical defects. 

Later the manuscript was submitted to him with a secret as- 
surance that it would meet his approval, but again he said, in the 
same composed manner, "This is improved, and I think one more 
effort will make it just right." The third trial, however, did not 
satisfy him, and not until I had written the article four times was 
he willing to accept it for publication. The discipline was any- 
thing but agreeable at the time, and that firm insistence might 
easily have been mistaken for fussiness. But I did not so inter- 
pret his spirit. It seemed to me a fine expression of determina- 
tion to print nothing in the paper which did not come up to a cer- 
tain standard of excellence, and also a unique manifestation of 
patience with an inexperienced writer. From that time onward 
I desired rather than dreaded his criticisms, which were invariably 
wise and reasonable, and many a novice beside myself learned to 
appreciate his painstaking oversight of our work. His persistent 
faith in our powers actually strengthened and developed them. 
All who knew him intimately realized that beneath this apparent 
purpose to get only the most thorough service from an employee 
lay an unselfish desire to benefit the individual by enlarging his or 
her capacity. Whatever success I have attained in my present 
calling is due largely to his admirable training. 

This facility for drawing forth the best in people appeared, 
too, in his relations as a friend. Being himself the soul of sincer- 
ity, incapable of meanness or duplicity, he unconsciously chal- 
lenged the exercise of the noblest qualities in others. And this, 
we all admit, is the highest prerogative of friendship, so to domi- 
nate another soul as to hold in check that which is base and lead 
it up by the inherent force of goodness to higher levels. With 
multitudes of others I count it one of the richest blessings of my 
life to have come within the circle of his friendship. He exem- 
plified in his daily life better than any man whom I ever knew a 
beautiful obedience to the apostolic code of morals summed up in 
the words: "In diligence not slothful; fervent in spirit; serving 
the Lord; rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing 

stedfastly in prayer." 

Frances J. Dyer. 



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